


A Widow Bit of Time

by Deko_Ni



Series: The Parental Guide to Your Spider [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Tower, BestfriendNed, Flash Thompson Redemption, Found Family, Homeless Peter Parker, Identity Reveal, Irondad, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Orphan Peter Parker, Peter Parker Metabolism, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sensory Overload, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deko_Ni/pseuds/Deko_Ni
Summary: A rewrite to my forgotten fichttps://archiveofourown.org/works/14774396Peter gazed out towards the glowing building just before him, its great size giving a sense of intimidation and intensity. He loved it. The splendor of it almost felt magnetizing what with the huge “A” glowing on the side of said building and the orange lights of the interior contrasting beautifully against the night sky.But Peter's just a kid from Queens. He has no business being here, a little sight-seeing couldn't hurt however. There was no one waiting for him back at home anyway.





	1. Persevere

If asked later on, Peter couldn’t clearly say why he was anywhere near 200 Park Avenue or in the Manhattan area in the first place. He’d been walking for so long, looking for safer places to stay each night, that without realizing, he’d completely left Queens entirely and wandered to the unrecognizable streets and buildings he may have visited only twice in his lifetime. The cause for such trips being the famed Stark Tower itself.

With one surprised blink Peter realized that he was no longer touching the pavement below and instead on the roof of one of the closest buildings to the only one he’d been dying to see again. Unconsciously, of course. He was more keen on staying low to the ground, passing off as another homeless kid, hoping no one would bother to step into his business and praying just enough that  _ maybe _ there’d be food in his stomach by the start of the next day.

Peter gazed out towards the glowing building just before him, its great size giving a sense of intimidation and intensity. He loved it. The splendor of it almost felt magnetizing what with the huge “ _ A _ ” glowing on the side of said building and the orange lights of the interior contrasting beautifully against the night sky. 

Peter stood to his feet on the building he was on, reaching up with his tippy-toes to get a closer look at the interior. From where he was, he still had what appeared to be another twenty floors to go to fully see the penthouse and the helicopter landing pad.

His side burned with the strain to catch a glimpse of  _ Avengers Tower _ \- he remembered correctly- and lowered himself back down to his heels. He suddenly had the urge to catch at least one last glance of the tower before returning to the streets below and scrounging in dumpsters for edible food. He wanted to enjoy his night just a while longer and live out his lifelong fantasy of reaching the top of the tower and watching the world go by below him, another set of eyes finding it impossible to catch sight of Spiderman so high up. He wanted peace and reprieve even if he might never get it again. Not for a long time.

Peter was already using up some of the last of his web fluid to cling to the side of the building and pull himself up, mindful of the stretching and tearing he was causing his injury. But he persevered. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes never once left the skylights of the tower and climbed up glass floor by floor before dragging himself over the landing pad railing with shuddering limbs. He gasped in relief when he finally reached the top and took only a moment to rest on his back. Then, he was on his feet again, head spinning and torso screaming in agony. The view below him, when he looked, was frighteningly beautiful. One slip and that would be the end of Peter Parker-the end of Spiderman. 

He moved back a step, taking in the lights and sounds of the city from his vantage point, breathing in the crisp, cool air. His senses even dialed down a few notches, noticing his demeanor change and the need for calm. 

Peter Parker was lucky in that moment. The breeze was cool and the littering of stars way up in the distance of the city sky were more than Peter had ever been able to see in Queens before. 

Calm. Peace.

His head turned then to look towards the glass doors where the orange, warm light from earlier was seeping. The overhanging lights on the inside made him desperate to get closer to them. He knew what a horrible idea it would be, to walk into the infamous tower. If anyone were to spot him, that was it. That would be it for his identity and for his efforts of running away from authorities for over a month on the streets. 

But the penthouse looked so inviting. There were plush couches on either side of the walls and a bar on one end (not that he had the intention of drinking) and what appeared to be a fridge tucked away in the corner. His mouth watered and his stomach ached. As if he needed anymore assurance, the pain in his side grew more intense and he immediately remembered that without a proper meal and disinfectants for the wound, whatever super-healing he had would be just as average as anyone else's- maybe worse.

He gulped in another breath, looked back towards the city lights that were now behind him and snuck through the glass door which was surprisingly unlocked. He worried about the meaning of it, but kept it at the back of his mind for the moment. Right now, his body was begging for rest and the slightest bit of comfort he could offer it.

He just wanted a night of feeling safe.

Inside the tower was not what Peter had been expecting. From the News and most Media reports, he’d assumed there would be Stark weapons and suits of every possible Mark aligning the walls, possibly even an automated arming system with guns at the ready in case someone snuck into the tower.

_ Alright, if I assumed that, maybe I should’ve been a bit more cautious about just walking in. _

Nothing was what he thought it would be. Which, considering this floor looked closer to a living room than a war room, it made sense. The tower had enough floors for five war rooms if it wanted anyway. Either way, now that Peter’s gushing over the sheer size of the tower was done, he set quick work to survey the area and picking out exactly where any cameras might be- which were surprisingly none.

He squinted his eyes at the lack of cameras in the room, but pushed it to the back of his head. Tony Stark probably thought he was invincible enough not to need any cameras in the penthouse. The lower floors, sure. Probably flooded with them since people from the streets of New York could practically just walk right in. Other than security checking badges and keeping the facts about the tower as quiet as possible- okay, none of that made much sense that anyone could really walk in. 

Peter himself tried to gather as much information on the tower as he could a while back and nothing on the Internet garnered him enough information. In fact, he'd barely gotten so much as a page's worth of information. The only ones who ever got access to the entire tower where the Avengers themselves and the Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D. They weren't about to give out any news about it anyway so it wasn't worth the time looking into that either.

Nondisclosure Agreements signed and filed away.

Peter crouched low, his senses suddenly flaring for a moment and then dying back down. He assumed someone was about to walk in on him, but he waited another minute and still nothing happened. The Penthouse was eerily silent and made him slightly nervous, but the moment his senses dropped back down, he let himself relax. He stretched back up to his feet and spared another glance around before creeping around the room, his eyes set on the mini fridge he spotted behind the bar counter.

And suddenly he was standing at the fridge, door open and hands already flitting inside in search for something edible. Which, in fact, there was plenty in there. 

He stopped himself.

He was snagging things that were probably accounted for and Tony Stark himself might actually be suspicious if food suddenly went missing from his personal fridge. It was there in the bar for a reason, someone had to be storing food inside it.

So, Peter took stock of everything in there- unopened packages of food, bottles of water and juices of several varieties and a few leftover meals stored in airtight containers. He sighed, took a single package of blueberry muffins, a handful of strawberries- moving them around in the container to make it look untouched- and a bottled water. He looked dejectedly at the remaining snacks and forced himself to shut the fridge so as not to be tempted to grab more. He set his things down on the bar counter and quickly glanced around underneath it and then around it, hoping that maybe there would be a First-Aid kit nearby.

And… there! Just out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small white box labeled with a red cross; as typical and ironic as it was. He pulled it out from where it was tucked away and immediately searched through it. Not much was inside, but a roll of gauze and disinfectant wipes should do well enough. He took those and pocketed them in the pocket of his Spider-Man hoodie along with the food he’d placed on the counter.

Just in time too for his senses spiked up again and the clicking of a nearby door echoed down one darkly lit hallway. Peter took one more nervous glance down the hall before racing for the Penthouse’s glass door. He had just enough web fluid to swing back down from the building and make it to the roof of another so he could climb the side of a less conspicuous windowed series of floors. He just had to-

_ Shit! _

Somehow, for some reason, the door wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he yanked at it. It wasn’t locked before, but now it was?! 

There were footsteps heading his way and in a panicked moment of indecision, Peter gripped the wall and climbed all the way up to the ceiling, hanging upside down and trying to blend in as best as he could within the few shadows that encompassed the vast expanse of the room. 

In the nick of time at that, too, because in walked Tony Stark himself, envelope in hand while his left removed the orange tinted sunglasses he wore.

Peter felt a giddy spark of energy reach him at seeing his Idol so up close, but immediately squashed it down once he remembered his situation. He wasn’t at an Expo being praised for a science project or getting Iron Man’s autograph, he was here because he was looking for food and something to clean his Spider-Man related wounds. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t be seen by anyone lest they realize he was a kid, orphaned and lost and running from CPS.

He’d closed his eyes for only a moment and then Tony Stark had vanished. He was no longer in the room, but the remaining envelope now sitting on the counter along with a half empty bottle of whisky proved he must have walked out only a moment ago. Peter’s Spidey senses reassured him that the billionaire was no longer in the room.

Quietly, he dropped back down to the ground below him and tried the sliding glass doors again. Still it wouldn’t budge. Peter almost panicked when they wouldn’t give in, he wanted to scream and cry at his unintentional predicament and the idea that he was stuck in The Avengers Tower, but he pushed the emotions down. There had to be a reason the door was locked all of a sudden.

What if somebody knew he was here? But no, he rationalized. If they did, Tony Stark himself would not have looked so calm about walking into the room, right? Guards would have probably been pointing laser-sighted guns at his head and an alarm would be blaring to alert the tower about an intruder. No, he was fine. He had food, water, bandages, AC for once, and nobody knew he was here.

No one.

So, his only conclusion, he would just have to wait for the doors to open again and swing out before he was caught. He just needed somewhere to hunker down until then. The Penthouse was definitely not an option unless he was begging to be caught. The room was too open and the only successful hiding place he’d spotted was the roof. He wasn’t about to sit upside down and wait for who knows how long.

But there were several hallways leading out of the main room into side rooms. If he was quiet and careful enough,he could find one that didn’t seem occupied and hide there for however long he could. 

And to his luck, several minutes later of him tiptoeing around and listening behind the doors of rooms did he find one. A room with a couch, a bed, a dresser, and several large paintings leaning against the wall all wrapped in plastic, a fine line of dust marking each surface. He snuck in, careful of any creaking door hinges, and clicked the door shut behind him.

Here would be fine. For now.


	2. Captain Suspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Pizza won't hurt.  
Would it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the overwhelming amount of feedback!  
I can't say how much it truly means to me. Thought I'd post this chapter a bit early so hope you enjoy it.  
Don't forget to leave a review!

Peter had wrapped his injuries up well enough that the bleeding finally stopped. He was lightheaded and tired even after having fallen asleep on the plastic covered couch in the corner. He blamed his exhaustion on the fact that he had been so nervous about actually falling asleep, he was more in a daze than anything. He was keeping a watchful eye and listening to every sound he could, mindful of his Spidey sense just in case.

There was a window in the room and the first thing he tried was to see whether it opened or not. It was a “not”. He suspected that whatever had happened to the Penthouse doors also happened to the window in the room. It felt like he was being watched. The very idea that somebody knew he was here made him nervous and didn’t help with the little sleep he tried getting the night before either. 

It was sometime later in the day now. He didn’t have a watch, but he suspected it was around noon at least. He might have been asleep for no more than three hours considering the amount of times he kept waking up; breaking out in a cold sweat from nightmares or jumping at sounds outside the door and rushing to crouch behind a painting or piece of furniture.

The night, or what little was left of it, was stressful for Peter. But he was able to clean the worst of his wounds, had a roof over his head that didn’t leak for once, and slept for some time at least. 

As for the food he’d snatched from the bar fridge, he was eating it sparingly, waking up to three of the strawberries and a few sips of water. For his metabolism, it was hell, but better than nothing. At this point anyway his body had grown used to the meager amounts of food he was able to give it. Not that this realization was any good, however. 

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Peter spent most of his time hiding behind the couch now that the sun was up and listening to the sounds of footsteps every so often outside of the room he was in. When he wasn’t paranoid over every sound outside of the room, he was switching through his web shooter canisters, shooting each one uselessly hoping there might be more than what he assumed previously that he had left. Barely a third of a canister remained. He solemnly clicked this one into the shooting mechanism around his wrist and placed all the others back in the pocket of his hoodie.

Peter’s eyes and ears continued to flit between the door and the window, weary of every sound or shadow that passed by. For the window, he reasoned that he was somewhere on the highest floor of the building so there was no way for someone to get him from there; someone who didn’t obtain the ability of flying or money to make things that flew at least.

The paranoia that everything he heard and felt was someone who knew he was here, was hell.

He sat in the corner of the room, having now migrated to the ceiling, and waited another few hours in complete silence. He suspected that for some time Tony Stark was no longer on the floor, but he was too nervous to actually do anything about it. 

Surprisingly enough, it took Peter another thirty minutes of contemplation and slight temptation to drop back to the ground and inch the door open just a little to see out into the hallway. At this point, there had been several voices having a conversation. It wasn't the muffled talking that drew him out, but the strong aroma of something warm and promising to eat.

Peter had food from the night before, but at this point he had gotten so hungry waiting for his heightened senses to die down that all of what he grabbed was gone. And the smell, the absolutely intoxicating smell of cheese and pepperoni pizza could not be any better.

He snuck his head out through the crack of the door and glanced quickly around, making sure no one would see him from down the hall. His senses alerted that the people on the floor were all in the main room- a safe enough distance for him to sneak out. Quietly, he slid out of the room and shut the door behind him so as not to give away where he’d been hiding for the night. Peter flexed his fingers and launched himself up to the wall, climbing the rest of the way until he hung upside down on the tall ceiling. His suit was still on and he tightened the mask over his face; mainly for the sake of anything going sideways from the stunt he was about to pull.

In a moment, he was crawling along the roof, careful not to make even the slightest sound. Just below him, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers… he squinted his eyes, but had a hard time recalling the name of the other person in the room beside them. The three men were talking, laughing every so often at a supposed joke and sharing several boxes of pizza between each other. 

Peter couldn’t care less what they were talking about and concentrated on keeping himself hidden as well as figuring a way to get some of the pizza inside his own stomach. He knew dropping down and snagging some with his hands was entirely not an option. Resignedly, he spared a glance at his web shooters and quickly made a decision. 

When Steve Rogers- THE STEVE ROGERS- turned away for a second and the others weren’t looking either, Peter shot a single web, connecting three slices together, and reeled it back in like a fishing line. He gripped them to his chest, careful not to let anything fall, and scrambled back before one of them could spot him or realize that there were three less slices in one of the boxes.

Peter was long gone by the time Steve Rogers turned back to grab a slice form the box only to hit air.

“That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Tony Stark crossed his arms and leaned backwards on the counter.

“Thought there was more in here.”

Tony laughed. “Getting dementia already, Capsicle?”

“Very funny.”

Bucky laughed beside him and nudged him with an elbow. Steve gave in, laughing as well. He, however, was unconvinced about the little mishap. Something wasn’t right here. Unconsciously, he glanced upwards at the roof and shook his head. 

None of the other Avengers were even in the building save for Bruce Banner who was downstairs in one of the labs. His one suspect would definitely be Clint. But with a quirked brow, he realized he was taking time off somewhere. He wouldn’t be back for another week.


	3. High and Flighty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter hunkered down as silently as he could, keeping the man in his sights from in between the box and wall. Whatever the situation happened to be, and whoever that man was, Peter realized just then how deep in shit he really was.
> 
> He was- by all means of the phrase- royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly shorter compared to the others, but the next one is definitely going to be a lot longer. I have tons planned for this fic and I can't wait to have people read it.  
Hope you all enjoy this one!

Peter caught himself in the nick of time; waking up unprovoked but on the defense nonetheless. He forced his aching limbs up and cautiously crept to the opposite side of the room, his figure hidden behind a cardboard box. The moment he was hidden from plain sight, the door across from him creaked open and suddenly he was staring directly at a man with a gun and a metal arm. Said metal arm rested vigilantly on the trigger, his eyes grazing the room in an apparent search for prey.

Peter hunkered down as silently as he could, keeping the man in his sights from in between the box and wall. Whatever the situation happened to be, and whoever that man was, Peter realized just then how deep in shit he really was.

He was- by all means of the phrase- royally fucked.

He held his breath, keeping them short and even no matter how difficult it slowly became taking them. The pain in his side was searing and his Spidey Sense was so loud he could hardly hear himself think. If he tried hard enough, he knew he could outrun the man in the doorway, but his body felt so… wrong and fragile that he doubted he would get far. The one window in the room wasn’t an option either- just a few hours ago (he assumed) he’d attempted breaking it after trying and failing to open it. The window definitely had to be made of bullet-proof glass.

Belatedly, Peter noticed the man with the gun as the one that had been sitting beside Steve Rogers over pizza and conversation with Tony Stark. This guy, whoever he was, was not someone to mess with if he was chumming it up with the Avengers. 

The… metal armed guy stalked along the side of the room, his eyes peeled and gun drawn to rest on his shoulder and flush against his chin. The way he walked and the stance he took greatly unnerved Peter. He knew if he didn’t move sooner than later, the man would have him down so fast his senses would barely have time to warn him. This guy was trained.

Peter kept himself low and crawled forward, making as little noise as possible. His best bet would be to make a break for the door-which was stupidly still open.

Every time Peter took a step, so did the guy. At this rate, Peter would be riddled in bullets before he even got a chance to reach the door. He was about to run for it instead, crouching low and preparing for a dash, when the universe made a decision for him. 

Or, rather, a sudden women’s voice in the room that caught him so off guard, he practically fell over onto a box and instead scrambled his way for the door. He was glad, for once, that he pulled on his mask earlier.

The man behind him cursed, the trigger was pulled, and a sharp pain erupted in Peter’s thigh.

For a fleeting second, Peter thought he was bleeding out and a bullet just lodged itself in his leg. It took him less than a second to realize it was a fuzzy-tipped dart, a second too long for another one went zooming towards him and landed in his bicep. He yanked both of them off of him, tossing them into the corner, before resuming his frantic attempt to escape the room. It was out the door in a minute and immediately his heart leapt. He was face to face with Captain America whom had his arms spread as if waiting to catch the Spider.

Peter panicked-only a moment-as his brain came up with a series of escapes. He took his best option and lunged upwards onto the ceiling, latching himself to it and crawling onward. He would’ve laughed at the bewildered-and slightly impressed-face of Captain America if he had the time to appreciate such a thing. His mind was racing so fast he couldn’t even take a second to consider what just happened. More worrying, however, was the splitting headache his senses were causing him and the uncontrollable pounding of his heart. 

His body was suddenly shaking and if it weren’t for the senses screaming at him to keep going, he would’ve fallen from sheer exhaustion on the glass table just below him. He continued to crawl-resembling too much a White Knobby Spider from Star Wars- to the opposite side of the room where the Penthouse doors were. The ones that were locked on him only a day ago. It was night now and he prayed they were open. 

The Captain and his friend were still following below him, voices loud and assertive as they tried to get Peter’s attention. He couldn’t listen. Or wouldn’t maybe. His head was becoming fuzzy and cotton began to fill his mouth. He swallowed several times to alleviate the sensation. At one point, he was so confused about what was going on currently that he started walking circles around the room without his knowledge.

The Avengers stopped midway just to stare in confusion even. 

But Peter found his sense of direction once more and hurried over to the door, slamming a fist into the glass in a desperate attempt to break it open. He wasn’t low enough to reach the handles. His movements became frantic as his heart continued to hammer noisily against his chest, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

In a final ditch effort, he hit the glass one more time when it gave in, smoothly opening to allow the night air to flow through.

There was an indignant cry from the two men in the Penthouse, but Peter was already dropping to the ground and stumbling outside, a web-shooter aiming at the nearest building and dragging him along towards it. The force of it was so unaccounted for that he barely had time to grip the webbing as he jumped from the landing pad of the Avengers tower.


	4. A Lot of 'Splaining to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good ol' New York City.

Peter was sailing through New York in a moment, the cold wind biting his cheeks, but not unwelcome in the least. He was painfully aware of the blood soaking his suit now and worried even more about the concerning amount of webbing he had left. 

Once he was far enough- not enough to no longer see the tower because let's face it, it was a skyscraper- he dropped down onto a low lying building. From what he could tell, it was an apartment building with a roof access. He allows himself to rest underneath the access door awning and huffs several necessary breaths. His hands shakily work the mask off his face.

The adrenaline from earlier was long gone and now Peter could feel the unusual amount of exhaustion coursing through him. He rubbed the sores in his leg and arm, realizing belatedly that he'd been shot at with sedatives.

"Great job, Spider-Man," he muttered to himself. 

What did he think would happen from sneaking into Avengers tower anyway? A parade and party poppers to go off just for his arrival? Dream on.

Instead, he got shot twice by a guy he'd never seen before that was most definitely an Avenger or friend of an Avenger. Also, got chased around a penthouse by said guy and Captain freaking America!

One good thing, his clouding head supplied, he'd been able to sleep somewhere that wasn't absolutely freezing for once and snagged a few bites of perfectly edible food. His massively, insane clean-freak nature was thankful of this fact- his metabolism not so much. If he let it run wild, he would have raided every fridge he could find in that building. 

And then one hundred percent get caught too.

But the Avengers helped people, didn't they? And Peter…

He laughed at the thought. The Avengers were Superheroes who helped to avert a world ending crisis. On the one hand, Peter Parker was a citizen in need, wasn't he? But to get help from them, not what he deserved. He went around every night dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie helping those who needed it more than he did. What would the Avengers do anyway, send him back to CPS for sure.

Peter couldn't let them know Spider-Man was a homeless kid either. What was he thinking?

Nothing, apparently. He definitely must've hit his head at one point.

Yeah, it was just the possible concussion talking. Peter was a nobody and he needed to stay a nobody if he wanted to keep his identity a secret.

Best not to rile up anyone's curiosity. No more sneaking into the tower.

He had to admit, though, that for the portion where he wasn't constantly on guard or in pain, settling low in the Avengers tower was better than where he'd been for the past month. Sure, he stole some pizza from Captain America himself, but at least he didn't steal it from people who lived paycheck to paycheck.

For Christ's sake, one pizza would barely make a dent in Tony Stark's wallet. Peter had nothing to feel guilty about there.

He stopped for a second, unconsciously realizing that the whole time these thoughts were running through his head, he was walking through an alleyway. His suit still on and mask way off. His feet shuffled a bit. He turned, glanced up at the sky, and then glanced back down at the continuing alley in front of him. It was empty thankfully.

Unfortunately, however, he was out of web fluid and he had no clue where he last left his backpack. The one with all his clothes and the three dollars he found behind a dumpster.

Peter pouted at that. He was going to try and get a sandwich at Delmar's, but that was no longer part of his plan.

He couldn't swing around the city and search for his bag either, he was fresh out of webbing. He checked.

Peter removed his hood and the long socks he wore, opting to fold them under his arm and walk around in the dark sweatpants and Midtown sweatshirt instead. The shirt was stained with blood, but he ignored it and hoped no one would give him a hard time about it. Which, in New York, everyone would probably just pass him off as a troubled teen anyway.

Good ol' New York City.

It was another hour, or what he assumed it had been, before Peter blinked back into existence. He was aware that he was walking along some nondescript street corner, but his brain was so muddled he wasn't entirely sure in what direction he was heading. 

It was already growing light outside too which, in this case, disturbed him. Last he was fully coherent it was still extremely dark out.

Whatever he got shot with must've been the good stuff considering how out of it he was. His metabolism should've eaten away at it by this point, but considering who it was that shot the tranqs, Peter guessed it had something to do with a super soldier or enhancements of some sort. Tony Stark wouldn't be stupid enough to send a hitman after him with normal people tranquilizers. 

Okay, not a hitman, but close enough. Someone to "take him out" in the not so literal sense.

Peter froze when he recognized a familiar subway exit. He flicked his head from street corner to street corner and quirked a brow. He knew where he was, but the fact that he somehow ended up here was beyond him. 

The street was already bustling with early signs of adults heading to work, but Peter swerved his way through the crowd-narrowly avoiding a service dog and a briefcase to the face.

Midtown was just before him, the doors shut and the surrounding courtyard deadly silent. He was early enough that a few teachers might be in, but no students. He takes this to his advantage and sneaks his way to the back of the school where one door was busted enough to stay unlocked.

Really, it was a safety hazard, but Peter wasn't about to go and report it to anyone. This door has saved him on more than one occasion.

He’s in the empty school hallway before the door has time to shut behind him and he immediately finds his way to a series of doors until he’s at the one he wants to be. He quietly creaks it open and takes a glance inside. When only silence greets him, he follows his intuition and makes his way to the cupboards and lab stations in the back.

It’s his science class- or used to be his science class. The desk chairs are stacked neatly on the far side of the room and the air smells like lemon cleaner. They must’ve cleaned the classroom the night before or maybe even that very morning. Peter enjoys it nonetheless because at least the AC is set on a comfortable temperature, never too hot or cold in this class and he greatly appreciates it.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters to himself, “in and out.”

His hands fly to the glass casing of chemical compounds on one side of the room and he’s racing to the other to grab glass beakers and stirrers in record time. Every so often, Peter glances over at the door, wary of the ticking clock ahead of it and how much time he has to do this. It’s still too early for anyone to walk in, but you never know.

Yeah. You never know.

He takes his eyes off the door for a second, gets distracted with the chemical composition he’s making in a petri dish, that he completely goes unaware of the figure standing at the entrance to the classroom-bag hanging over one shoulder and mouth agape.

“Peter?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around with this story, hope everyone is enjoying it so far!  
don't forget to leave a review please


	5. I've Got Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But why can't Peter jist accept help when- oh, right, he's part Spider and in no way is he about to let anyone else deal with all his weirdness. Except, of course, a few choice people.

Thus, Parker luck strikes again. 

Peter flinched violently at the voice in the previously quiet room, effectively knocking the dish and half completed web fluid to the floor, glass shattering and spreading across the ground. He freezes where he is, hands hovering over the now empty table, eyes wide and body buzzing both in excitement and guilt. He slowly lifts his head, gaze following at a snail’s pace before he’s eye-to-eye with his best friend.

Ned is standing there, his own eyes wide and backpack slipping from his shoulder. Peter barely has a moment to say anything before the other boy is rushing across the room, crushing him in a hug that speaks volumes. 

They grip each other so tight that if Peter didn’t keep his strength in check, he would’ve crushed Ned. But Ned is the one who hangs on the tightest and barely gives him room to breathe. They stand there suspended in time for what feels like hours before Ned pulls away, his hands on Peter’s shoulders to keep him at arms distance but still touching.

Ned’s face is red and his eyes are watery- Peter feels the same way but swallows the lump in his throat and opts for a wavering smile instead.

“Hey, Ned,” he says in almost a whisper.

“Peter.” Ned stumbles over his words, eyes taking in the appearance of his friend from head to toe. He looks like he’s about to comment on the state of his clothes, but chooses something else instead.

Peter already knows how bad he looks with his ripped pants and scuffed Converse. Not to mention the bloodstain on his sweatshirt.

“Where have you been, man? We-we were so worried- and oh my God, I heard what happened to May, I’m so so sorry, but why haven’t you been at school? No one knows where you went and the teachers won’t tell us and you haven’t even texted me so I thought- Peter, what happened?” 

The words are so fast and jumbled that Peter has a hard time distinguishing each sentence. It takes him a moment to comprehend what was said before his heart sinks and he almost feels like crying now- Ned’s eyes are already pooling with tears and his lower lip shakes.

_ You’re such an asshole, Peter. _

“Peter, where were you?”

“I…” he has to look away, glance at the classroom door. He can’t take the misery he sees in Ned’s face and the guilt continues to feel like stones in his stomach (which doesn’t feel great considering he’s still starving and consequently about to fall over from whatever tranq is coursing through his system). 

Peter blinks rapidly and focuses back on Ned, steeling himself to at least give his best friend an explanation for his sudden disappearance.

“Ned, I feel so fucking bad for doing that to you. I- I had to go away for a bit and figure things out. But- I’m so sorry, Ned. I swear, I didn’t mean to ghost you or anything.”

Ned, thankfully, huffs a laugh at the attempt of a joke and lowers his arms from Peter’s shoulders. Peter feels slightly disappointed at this, but hides it away. 

“Where have you been staying? Did- um, did the cops find someone to take you in or…”

Peter felt horrible about his friend having such a hard time asking a simple question and punches himself mentally over it. Ned shouldn’t have had to worry about his welfare without even a single text from him for over a month now. He couldn’t be anymore of a worse friend. 

“I mean, you’ve still been going around and doing your thing in Queens so I knew you were alive, but you didn’t even swing by and say hello or tell me what happened and I thought maybe… I don’t know what I thought. But when you didn’t come back to school and then your patrols started getting more rare…” The tears really were falling now. He covered his face with a hand and stifled a sob. 

Peter hiccuped on a cry of his own, but didn’t try to offer Ned comfort. If he did, he knew he would break too and then they’d both be here for hours crying and holding each other. Peter still had a multitude of adults to hide from.

Ned, bless his heart, was quick to wipe away his tears and smiled sadly at Peter. “I was just worried about you.”

“I know…”

“So, where were you?”

Peter grit his teeth and nervously pulled at the hem of his sweatshirt. “I wasn’t really anywhere.”

When Ned didn’t respond, Peter quickly supplied, “But I’ve been fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Peter, no offense, but you look horrible. And you’re covered in blood too, so I don’t think you’re actually that fine.”

Peter concedes. There’s no way he can’t agree with Ned there. Sometimes he even had a hard time getting up some mornings- if he got any sleep at all, that is. 

“You could’ve asked my mom to take you in or, you know, another family or… anything but living on the streets, Peter.”

“You know why I can’t do that. Your mom works too hard just taking care of you and even if I did end up with someone else, I’m Spider-man.” He laughs bitterly. “No one can keep up with my metabolism or the fact that I sneak out every night to fight crime. Not- not even May could sometimes, I wouldn’t do that to someone else.”

“But…” Ned shoves his hands in the pocket of his pullover. “There has to be some other way.”

“Not that I’m seeing right now.” 

Both boys stand in silence for another solid minute, musing over their own thoughts and each other’s responses. Peter is about to say something about the time, but decides to kneel down and pick up the remnants of his experiment instead. He almost topples over in the process if not for Ned’s quick thinking. A wave of light-headedness falls over him and he begins to realize just how disturbingly strong the tranqs from earlier were. He’s falling asleep and can barely keep his eyes open.

“Whoa. Peter, are you okay?”

Ned situates him so he’s sitting down on a cleaner portion of the floor before removing his hands and looking him over. 

“Peter?”

“Yeah. All good. May have gotten shot at by some dude and I think it’s still in my system.”

“What? Shot by who with what?”

“Fast acting.”

“Peter?” The panic in Ned’s voice is palpable now.

Peter waves a sluggish hand. “Just a tranq or two.”

“Who shot you, and shouldn't your Spider-man junk have gotten rid of it by now?”

“‘Nother time, Ned.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, panic all over again, but his face hardens and comes to a decision instead. “I’m calling an Uber and we’re going back to my place.”

“Ned, no,” Peter pushes himself to sit straighter. “You can’t skip school. Your mom-”

“I’ll say I was sick and decided not to go. I mean, school hasn’t even started yet so it’s technically not skipping, just not going.”

He’s already pulling his phone out and ordering an Uber before Peter has a moment to say anything else. 

And then Peter’s realizing something he hadn’t earlier. Because, why, in fact, was that a convenient thing that happened?

“Hey, Ned?”

“Yeah?”

“Why were you here so early? You’re never this early to school.”

Ned glanced up from his phone and laughed. “Oh, yeah. I started coming in on Mondays to get the lab set up so that Mr. Harrington wouldn’t have to.”

“Teacher’s pet.”

“Shut up, at least I don’t willingly do extra work and raise my hand for every question the teacher asks.”

“Because I know the answers!”

“Save some for the rest of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you heard the good news?  
OUR BOY IS BACK IN THE MCU.
> 
> [SPOILER FOR FAR FROM HOME]  
Peter was so stressed with the identity reveal that he yeeted himself out of the MCU XD
> 
> Anyway, hope you enioyed this chapter. Let me know how it was!


	6. Disaster Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you keep it cool when someone famous is standing in the same room as you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize immensely for the late chapter.  
I have lots of excuses, but really, there's no point in listing them all here  
I just hope you enjoy this chapter as I haven't given up on the story as of yet and plan not to!
> 
> Please review what you thought

As promised, Ned and Peter had taken an Uber and quietly made their way to the familiar apartment complex, Ned’s hand constantly having to guide a swaying Peter before he fell over in the middle of a hallway.

By the time Ned had pulled out his keys and worked it into the lock to open the door, Peter’s head lolled forward and continues that way, appearing to have already fallen asleep. 

Appearing.

Peter was fully conscious of what was going on around him, but everything else visually and comprehensively pools together into an incorrigible sludge. No matter how hard he tries to grasp to his fullest extent what is going on around him, it seems to slip through and leave only the words “Ned” and “House”. For the life of him he can’t remember how they got here. Better yet, he has a hard time telling his limbs to stay standing and therefore leaves his full body weight to Ned’s responsibility. 

Peter doesn’t necessarily weigh much, he leaves the blame towards how much food he’s been consuming and how fast his body digests it. Too fast, in fact, to put on any weight and, instead, losing some. 

In what feels like a flash of time, Peter is being set down on the softest thing he’s felt in a long while. Ned is patting his shoulder and Peter opens his eyes enough to realize who’s bed he’s taken captive. He wants to tell his friend “no, I can’t take your bed”, but the way the mattress morphs around his body and the sheets contain his warmth convinces him not to.

He’ll just feel bad about it later and subsequently apologize instead. 

Yeah, that would be fine, Ned would definitely understand tomorrow. Or in a few hours.

Peter cracks open an eye before he completely falls unconscious and catches a quick glimpse of his friend heading out the door.

"Ned," his voice is low and shaky but he continues, "wake me in'a couple hours."

He's not entirely sure if Ned hears him because he isn't awake long enough to pick up the hum of confirmation.

  
  


His sleep ends up being dreamless and full of the feeling of warmth and comfort. Peter hasn't felt this in a long time and he allows himself to indulge in as much as he can before he forces his addled brain to wake up. He's still terribly tired when he peers an eye open to gaze into the room. 

He could've been asleep for hours or no more than ten minutes. But according to the light outside Ned's window, he was asleep for negative two hours. As in, it was an earlier daylight than last time he'd been awake.

This realisation thrusts him out of bed with an unnerving amount of adrenaline that he never knew he possessed. 

The time is all wrong! 

_ How in the world did I sleep backwards? _

"You were asleep for an entire day, man."

_ Cool _ , he said the first part aloud without even noticing. Just like he noticed sleeping for a whole day.

"Ned…" He rubs his eyes and lowers himself down to the bed, still exhausted beyond belief and finally looks up at his friend- who was seated rather precariously in his desk chair? Not once in his life had Peter seen Ned cross his legs unless he was nervous about something.

Peter quirks an eyebrow at the odd behavior and Ned quickly responds to the look with a shocked expression of his own.

Ned is flitting his eyes towards the corner where his bedroom door is located. He's doing it so frantically that Peter immediately assumes he's been caught by a very angry Mr. and Mrs. Leeds. Boy is he dead wrong.

Peter is nearly floored when he finally gives in and turns around to face none other than Tony Stark leaning against the door frame.

Peter chokes on a breath of air and fights for a moment to regain it, Ned is by his side trying to calm him but he can tell that none of them are necessarily thinking about helping Peter breathe again. Peter would much rather continue to choke on said air until it's all gone and he can wake up from his nightmare.

In what universe is Peter ever going to catch a break.  _ Not this one that's for sure _ , thinks Peter sardonically.  _ If the Multiverse exists, I sure wish this wasn't the one where Tony Stark is standing in my friend's apartment. _

It takes Peter another moment to catch himself, for his brain to pick up speed and form the mumbled sounds he's been hearing into actual words.

"-here was supposed to be a cool guy. Probably not too cool considering he was sneaking around in my building." Tony Stark says the words with such conviction that Peter is afraid to actually hear whatever it was he missed.

_ But wait, what?! _

"Sn-sneaking around-" Peter swallows and wills his brain to act clueless. "Who was sneaking around your building? Ned, you weren't, right? I mean, that place is, like, guarded to the brim." 

Peter feels horrible about throwing Ned under the proverbial bus, but a panicked mind is a dumb mind. He was never very good at lying anyway especially with the way his voice wavers. 

Ned, the kind and self-sacrificing soul he was, nods his head frantically as if agreeing with Peter. He looks between Tony Stark and Peter and inconspicuously winks as if he knows exactly what might be going on. 

“Mr. Tony Stark, sir, Peter here might be smart in the science department, but to break into a multi-billion dollar building meant for Superheroes- there’s no way! I mean, he’s been here all night, really, there’s no possibility for him to be in two places at once.”

Peter would’ve exhaled with relief if he didn’t catch the sudden flash of a smile on Tony’s face. The millisecond of its appearance absolutely terrified him and he forced himself to remain seated for the time being even if his senses were warning him to leap out of the window only a foot behind him.

When he talks, opens his mouth to say the next few words, Peter is on his feet and preparing to make a break for it.

“I never said he was there last night. In fact, I never said it was even him I suspected.”

_ Sorry, Ned, this one’s on you. _

Peter tries his best to lose the man’s focus and sneak towards the window in small shuffling steps, but of course nothing ever goes well for him. The moment his gaze breaks with the suit-clad man and moves for the window, a looming figure is already there- two, in fact. One he recognizes as Natasha Romanoff and the other as Hawkeye. They’re both sitting on the fire escape and wave mockingly at him- more so Hawkeye- from the outside.

_ This is how I die. _


	7. Yikes, big guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puking his guts up at that moment seemed way more compelling than geeking out did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for not posting in a while, I've been working on a personal comic of mine and have been taking a lot of time with the script and storyboarding. I do, however, plan to finish this fic hopefully some time in the near future!
> 
> Enjoy

“Anyway,” Tony Stark continued, just as easily ignoring the two teens freaking out in the same vicinity as him as the waving spies outside the window. “Got security footage clearly catching facial recognition of- you guessed it- Peter over here.” And for emphasis, he points a grease-stained hand towards the still sleep ruffled Peter Parker. “So, if I were you, I would start talking.”

Peter makes an averted glance in Ned’s direction, catching his eye and clearly conveying a desire for help. Or begging, really. 

But what exactly could Ned do in this situation?

“Mr. Tony Stark, maybe your tech just glitched out or- or someone hacked into it.”

Yeah, he could do that. Peter resisted the urge to run a hand down his face in exasperation.

Of course, Tony didn’t buy the half-baked excuse and chose to pretend Ned’s presence was nonexistent. He waved him off and turned his stern gaze back towards Peter who involuntarily flinched at the coldness of the stare. “So. I’m waiting. You got an excuse, kid?”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but his brain still being as muddled as it was, no coherent thought would show. He sealed his lips in a tight line instead.

“Alright.” Tony nodded his head as if coming to a conclusion. “Does he know?”

He was pointing at Ned, his gaze never leaving Peter’s. In all honesty, Peter wasn’t sure what he was alluding to. For a second, that was. If Tony Stark had security footage throughout his building and caught footage of him as well as information on him, there was absolutely no way he wasn’t already found out.

Peter blinked, considering, before giving an almost imperceptible nod.

“Okay,” Tony said. He stood straighter now, no longer leaning on the doorframe, crossing his arms tightly over his blazer- a graphic-T barely poking out from beneath it. “What the fuck was Spider-man doing in my tower sneaking around for an entire day?”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, breaking only when Ned practically leaped from his desk chair. Said chair rolled across the room and slammed into a desk where action figures rattled precariously in their spots. He turned his head frantically towards Tony Stark and then Peter, his eyes wide, but his mouth thankfully only open in a silent gasp. 

“W- I wasn’t-” Peter stuttered in just as much shock as his best friend but for completely different reasons.

“Don’t give me that shit, kid. Video footage, remember. Sneaking around my tower doing who knows what for who knows who. You’re a vigilante and if I’m not wrong, you fall on that chaotic neutral spectrum that I don’t particularly care for.”

Peter was ready to deny everything, but Tony Stark seemed to understand where his brain was heading and barely gave him time to breathe before he continues. 

“Now, if you were smart, I would suggest you tell me exactly what was going on and don’t bother skiving on any of the details either.”

But Peter didn’t know where to start. His head was still spinning from sleep and whatever was running through his system still seemed to be doing flips in his stomach. Or was that nerves? Honestly, Peter felt like throwing up right about now. He desperately wanted to punch himself in the face for not taking any precautions- or better yet, not going to The Avengers Tower in the first place!

_ Peter Parker, you’re an idiot! _

And Ned was still giving him this look that begged for him to give him details too-as he had yet to tell his best friend what was going on for the past month. Peter was literally digging himself into an early grave- okay, bad analogy.

Apparently, he was taking too long to answer according to Tony Stark standards. He uncrossed his arms and made a quick hand gesture towards the spies outside the window before talking to Peter once more.

“Come on, car’s waiting downstairs and if we’re not having this conversation here, we’re having it where all this began.”

Peter opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, and thought better-deciding it would be better to just follow the man back to the Tower. None of this could necessarily get any worse, but he had to admit, there was an odd sense of intimidation.

_ Duh!  _

He was too tired anyway to try and escape at this point. So he patted Ned on the shoulder as he brushed his way past and gave him a hesitant smile as he followed Tony out of the apartment.

“I’ll… uh, fill you in later, Ned.”

“Y-yeah. Okay.”

And Ned was left in his living room, alone and absolutely star-struck. 

  
  


To say that the car ride back to Manhattan was awkward would be a gross understatement. In fact, if Peter wasn’t in trouble at the moment, he would’ve just about gushed at the idea of being flanked by Hawkeye and Black Widow, Tony Stark riding shotgun. Not to mention he was riding in a Rolls Royce of all cars. The questions drowning his nerd brain were overwhelming, but the urge to throw up from nerves was far more overpowering. Puking his guts up at that moment seemed way more compelling than geeking out did.

He could practically feel Tony Stark glaring in the rearview mirror at him, and the fact that even the driver was doing the same thing didn’t help the situation- not glaring, at least, the driver- who Peter couldn't seem to get a read on- just looked confused.

His name was Happy apparently, but he didn’t give off a very “happy” vibe if that made sense. Well, none of this situation made sense and Peter had no one to blame but himself. If his resolve to keep his anxiety under wraps wasn’t as strong as it was, he probably would’ve broken out in sobs. Cried the whole ride back to the tower he'd deliberately snuck in and had no full-proof excuse for being there either. They probably thought he was some spy-for-hire and was doing something sketchy with all the information he acquired. 

In fact, Peter didn't learn anything worthwhile about any of the Avengers while he was there. The whole time he was worried about healing, getting some food, and sleep, not what the Avengers were up to or what their social securities were.

Embarrassingly enough, his stomach suddenly growls. In between two cool Avengers. With Tony Stark in the car and his personal chauffeur.

Because this day just couldn’t suck more than it already did. None of them seemed to pay him any mind and for that he was grateful. But man was he hungry. Just keeping his stomach quiet was a challenge itself. 

Peter wrings his hands in his lap, taps his knee and then forces it to stop. He's in a cycle for a little over a minute before someone else in the car decides to speak, as if the quiet was more stifling than it needed to be.

"Why do we have a kid in the car again?" 

It was Hawkeye right beside him. God, Peter wanted so bad to turn to him and ask him everything about how he knew Archery so well-  _ shut up, dumb question. _

_ Answer, he's an Avenger. Duh. _

"Because," Tony says from the front. "This bug was sneaking around in the tower, I thought we went over this?"

"So you mean to tell-"

"Arachnid, not a bug."

Just when everything was going so well.

Hawkeye was responding to  _ The Iron Man _ right when Peter thought it would be a great idea to correct a genius that Spider's weren't bugs.

_ Idiot! _

"Sorry, sorry," he quickly apologizes. Peter still hasn't bothered looking away from his hands. "Second nature. Muggers just kinda always get the bug thing wrong and I- yeah. Sorry."

It's a tense silence longer before Hawkeye snickers, Happy groans, and Black Widow sighs. Tony is silent for a while longer.

"Cheeky motherfucker."

"Whoa, don't let Cap. hear you say that." Says Happy.

Tony turns in his seat, ignoring the comment from his driver and stares long enough at Peter that he forces himself to stare back. He never realized how… tired the Avenger looked before.

"Just 'cuz you made a joke doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Right." Peter agrees.

"What's this kid in trouble for?" Hawkeye asks.

Black Widow responds, her voice low enough to send chills down Peter's spine.  _ These are trained assassins, aren't they? _

"Spider-man has been nesting in the tower and is most likely working for someone."

Peter felt like the comment was directed more towards himself than Hawkeye, which was weird. But they were probably fishing for answers and in all honesty, Peter was the only one with them.

Peter sighs, wrings his hands once more, and glances over at Tony Stark whom is still turned in his seat. "Mr. Stark sir, I don't work for anyone. No one… hired me to get information on any of you."

"Kid like you could do with some money." He takes a once over at the kid's clothes as if that's enough confirmation. 

"I'm not for hire. I swear, just wrong place wrong time, I guess."

And it really was. When you're sick, cold, hurt, hungry, and so low in the head that you can barely think straight, the only thing you can think to do is hunker down and go to sleep. Peter's brain worked differently. He was Spider-man. He wanted one last chance to see his heroes from as close up as he could possibly get. And if that meant he would sneak into the very tower that housed trained assassins and super humans, so be it.

What he hadn't expected was for it to be so easy to get in. Then get stuck inside.

"Sure. I'll believe that for now."

"Honestly, it's pretty funny he got past you." Hawkeye comments.

He's almost immediately smacked on the back of the head by Black Widow to which he scowls childishly at. 

"Hey, you do that anymore and you're gonna pop my hearing aid."

If this weren't such an uncomfortable situation, Peter would find the familial reactions between them endearing. But he can't. Not when his brain can't stop thinking about food.

And right about now he's really regretting not just stocking up on whatever food he found in the tower when he had the chance.


	8. Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, am I in a robot take-down in the making?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments on the last chapter, if i don't respond it's because I don't necessarily have the time but i do appreciate each and every one.   
They motivate and inspire me so much to actually write this story.  
Thank you!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter

If Peter thought everything might get a little less tense once they actually reached the tower, he was dead wrong.

As soon as the car stopped in a “private” garage-of all things- he was escorted and almost dragged into the building when he strayed a little too far from the heroes and Tony Stark grabbed his arm to keep him from going any further.

Peter wasn’t trying to run, he just wasn’t into the idea of walking literally two feet from a Billionaire, two assassins/agents, and the really stern guy that for some reason thought it might be amusing to see what would happen in a few minutes. The least bit of Peter’s problems was someone finding the situation funny. Honestly, he was kind of glad Happy was coming along just because he might need someone to make light of everything.

Peter glances over at Happy with narrowed eyes, trying to understand whether he was actually in it for the fun or something else. He hoped it really was just for the hell of it. But if he was Tony’s personal driver…

_ Oh God, what if he’s some Super-serumed, Super-Soldier and that’s why he’s in charge of Tony Stark’s actual life? Holy shit, he could probably kill me! _

Peter immediately averts his gaze when Happy catches him staring.

He's not necessarily in the mood to invoke another possible Avenger's fury. One he might have never heard of, but a possible killing machine nonetheless.

Hawkeye at least was the less intimidating of the group. He wore hearing aids and cracked jokes! The guy was pretty sweet. Black Widow on the other hand was someone Peter knew kids in his school would lay down their lives for. She was badass and was a symbol for "women empowerment" on the team. The weird girl Michelle- who always seemed to draw people in the cafeteria- would definitely kill to meet Black Widow. Literally kill.

Peter was so lost in his own thoughts that he was unaware when Tony Stark had stopped in his tracks to which Peter immediately ran face first into.

"S-sorry," Peter stuttered.

Tony waved a noncommittal hand in his direction and pointed to somewhere in front of him. "I get that you kids get starstruck by the sheer cool-ness of my building, but how about keeping up with the other brats, huh?"

Peter cocked his head, having absolutely no clue what he was talking about.

Tony sighs and points his hand with vigor in front of himself again.

_ Oh. Elevator. _

And a rather big elevator at that. Happy, Hawkeye and the Widow were already inside and fit with a perfectly respectable amount of room between them- there still being enough for someone the Hulk's size.

Peter swallowed. He really hoped Hulk wasn't in the building. He was a neat guy and all, but just seeing him would be enough to make Peter faint from shock.

He's given a little shove by Tony Stark when he delays too long and is soon in the elevator with everyone else, the doors closing in front of him.

Tony Stark presses a button, to which Peter assumes is a floor number, but there are a ton and none of them are written on, so he can't necessarily say whether that's what it is.

"FRIDAY, common room, please."

"Of course boss." Says a voice from above. And everywhere.

Peter jumps in surprise and just barely keeps himself from turning red from embarrassment when Tony raises a brow at him.

"Who was that?" Peter asks. 

"FRIDAY." Tony responds. "Personal AI that runs the entire building, security, keeps everything in tip top shape."

Peter nods though he still has no clue what any of that means in terms of an artificial intelligent lifeform?

_ No, not an alien. Computer more like. _

"Would boss like me to inform Rogers and Barnes of your arrival?" FRIDAY says completely unprompted.

Tony laughs. "Nah. We'll surprise 'em."

It's only then that Peter recognizes the AI voice and why it feels so familiar. He was so busy trying to sneak away from Captain America and his scary friend that he forgot about the mystical, all surrounding voice that emanated from what Peter thought was the roof.

He's still contemplating over how the tech worked and if there were cameras everywhere for FRIDAY to react to them-  _ did it have it's own conscious. Holy shit, am I in a robot take-down in the making?-  _ that he isn't aware when the elevator doors finally ding open and he's being shoved forward.

He really needed to stop spacing out. Especially here in Avengers Tower where said Avengers assumed he was being paid to snag information on everyone.

Not a laughing matter or something to fawn over either.

Peter was in serious shit. Identity-revealing, incriminating type shit.

"Kid, are you even listening to me right now?"

_ Oh my God, I'm doing it again!  _

Peter shakes his head in a dramatic fashion in an attempt to clear it and looks over at Tony Stark whom is currently, very nearly looming over him. He frowns and makes himself seem embarrassed enough that Tony backs off slightly.

"Sorry. Um… what did you say?"

"You and the apologizing. Cut that out, will you?"

Peter is about to apologize again, but bites the inside of his cheek before he's able to.

Tony thankfully doesn't notice and continues to repeat what he previously said. "You, get on over to that couch. Sit. We're having a little chat about what in the hell has been happening here."

Peter doesn't move, trying to figure out whether it would be beneficial to outright refuse or go along with what the billionaire was laying down.

"Or we could interrogate you tied to a chair with little to no outside contact until we have all the answers we're looking for."

Choice made.

Peter ambles towards the leather couches in the center of the…  _ oh, boy. _

He's in the very room that sealed his doom. He wonders if this is just the universe playing pure irony on him or if Tony Stark did it on purpose. Probably the latter.

When Peter finally makes it to the couch, he plops down harder than he intended and his side screams in agony.

Right. He still had a gaping wound to take care of that, surprisingly enough still was nowhere near healing, along with a vast array of bruises just about everywhere, exhaustion, and the most pressing his hunger apparently. The emptiness in his stomach since his stolen pizza is the most prominent and he forces than feeling down as far as he can. He's already feeling faint from missing just that simple necessity. 

Only when he gets over his inner turmoil, trying his best to get over the aches and pains, does he notice the Black Widow and Hawkeye watching him from the opposite side of the room. And Tony Stark with Happy right beside him seated on the couch across from him. And then Steve Rogers himself and the other guy a metal arm- though he's wearing Captain America Pjs?

Peter glances over the members in the room staring him down intently and swallows nervously.

"So…" He says.

Tony does the talking. "So indeed." He crosses his arms. "First thing's first. How the hell did you get in here?"

Peter takes a moment to answer, his hands now nervously running across each other. His heart skips a beat when he realizes the empty canisters on the webshooters he's still wearing. He swallows, takes a breath, and then responds nervously. "Th- the doors were open." He points towards the main doors that lead out to the landing pad.

"You honestly expect me to believe that?"

Happy snorts beside him but thankfully doesn't say a word.

"Yes…"

"FRIDAY." Tony calls out.

"Yes, boss."

"Were the penthouse doors open when Spidey snuck in?"

"Of course."

Everyone in the room freezes, even Steve Rogers who was apparently in the middle of opening a water bottle for his friend. He's midway from passing it over.

Hawkeye is adjusting his hearing aids like he didn't hear properly.

"FRIDAY, sweetie, I'm sorry. 'Of course' as in the doors were left open before he got in?"

"Yes, boss."

Black Widow shrugs. "Did you leave the doors open?"

Tony stutters but immediately composes himself when FRIDAY answers for him in the negative.

She continues. "The doors are set to automatically open when a hero is in distress."

"I never gave him clearance."

"You never specified who the clearance was for."

Tony frowns between the argument with his AI and utters under his breath, "bug, gotta fix that programming bug." He shakes his head.

Regaining a sense of confidence, Peter fills in the blanks. "The um… doors closed after I got in."

"FRIDAY?" Tony asks.

"Spider-man was already inside and therefore the doors no longer had the need to be open."

"Dear God," Tony sighs, "she's testing my patience." 


	9. A Little Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an uncomfortable silence. Even Tony looks dumbfounded because what exactly is he supposed to say to that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to everyone sticking by this story, it really means a lot to me.  
Hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to leave a comment!

Steve, at the moment was the only one who had the capability of speaking. The other Avengers were so dumbfounded over Tony's mistake they forgot where all the attention in the room was actually supposed to be directed. All eyes were on Tony, trying their best to figure out how in the world he could've missed such a thing. 

Steve, on the other hand, was keenly aware of Tony's sometimes "forgetfulness".

"Hey, it's Tony for God's sake. Did you really expect any less?"

Tony on his part looks annoyed at the comment while Happy and Natasha look resigned to the comment, nodding their heads as if they knew far too well.

Hawkeye laughs. "Big yikes on you, man."

Tony doesn't respond, returning his utmost concentration to the boy still fidgeting on the couch.

At this moment in time, Peter was running on nothing but adrenaline. He was starving now, barely able to hold his eyes open, and the pain in his side had increased to a burning sensation. If the earlier tranq had some sort of numbing agent, he would take it again in a heartbeat.

"My real question is," responds Tony, rightfully unable to hear Peter's inner turmoil. "What exactly possessed you to sneak in here and why stick to a single room?"

Peter doesn't know what to say. How is he going to tell Iron Man that he was at his lowest, and when he saw the tower he felt this overwhelming sense of childlike wonder and the good times came flowing back to him. That he, in all honesty, didn't intend on stepping inside, but the interior looked so inviting he had to fight his own instincts not to follow through with such a half-baked idea; the possibility of something else for just a few moments in one of the coolest places he was aware of New York ever having. 

Peter lowers his head, eyes focused now on the hands he's squeezing together in his lap.

Tony sighs, exasperated, and continues. "Your name is Peter Parker."

Peter freezes, tries his best not to let the shock show, but fails miserably. The tone in which Tony said those words suggests he has more information and Peter braces for it.

"Peter Parker is Spider-man. You're 15 years old. Your birthday is on August… the tenth." He pauses for dramatic effect. "And your middle name is Benjamin."

Peter holds his tongue, his face becoming red at the mere mention of the name. He wants to scream.

"Now, what I wanna know, is who in the world raised you. Or rather, where your parents are cuz don't think they'd appreciate their kid swinging around Manhattan late into the night fighting crime."

Peter stills himself.

"Alright." 

From the angle Peter is looking, he can only see the base of a blue screen appear.

Tony moves his hands and screen after screen zoom by until he stops on one hovering just before him. He uses it as simply as he would a computer screen and quickly reads off the information written on it.

"Spider-man appears in late 2015. He goes about, taking on petty crime, helping old ladies cross the street. A year later he moves to taking on bank robbers, heists, hostage situations. At one point reporters swore they saw him stabbed on occasion and on others barely evading a bullet."

He pauses and flips through another screen.

"Spider-man disappears for a month in September of this year. Before that, he's seen taking beatings, being unable to evade said bullets, and taking damage more than not. Eyewitness reports, and sources that are less than valuable, suggest "Spider-man was keeping low and only appeared when completely necessary". Then he disappears and reappears two nights ago. Here." He leaves the screen to hover at camera footage of Peter himself opening the doors to the Penthouse and stepping inside. "Clint here has kids. If one of them started coming home with the injuries you have in the last two months, he would know. Any parent would know."

Peter feels like all of a sudden his parents are being blamed for what he's been doing. Because a parent wouldn't let their kid walk night after night into danger. May would never do that to him and that's why the secret was the hardest thing to keep. One of the many things he regrets not telling her.

"So?" Tony asks.

Peter finally looks up, his eyes locking onto the billionaire's own. His voice is grit behind his teeth when he forces it out. "If you looked deeper maybe you would find out my parents are actually dead."

Clint- Hawkeye, whatever- sucks in through his teeth and Happy seems to nervously shift on the couch beside Tony.

"I was small, it was a long time ago and I barely remember them."

Tony has suddenly occupied himself with the screens again. "Your aunt, you have one of those."

Peter swallows. "If you looked again, it should say she's been gone since- since early September. Ben two years before that."

Peter hated how easy it sounded for him to say. That his Aunt and Uncle were dead. But, at this point he felt numb. He couldn't feel like crying anymore, probably couldn't even do so at this point. Everything around him in the world was muted with only the simple fact that everyone was gone.

"Jesus." Steve says in the background.

There's an uncomfortable silence. Even Tony looks dumbfounded because what exactly is he supposed to say to that?

Peter continues for them instead. "This whole… tower thing was an accident and frankly I don't even know why I stepped inside."

_ I was cold, and tired, and hungry. Where else was I gonna go? Another alley where I risked being mugged and/or killed cuz I couldn't let anyone know that Spider-man was actually a homeless teenager? _

"But I don't work for anyone and that's that."

Tony takes a breath, as if he has something to say, but Steve intervenes. 

"Who are you staying with, Peter?"

When he doesn't answer immediately, it seems everyone knows. None of them are surprised when he mutters "no one".

"Where have you been staying?" Steve carries on.

Peter doesn't have the willpower to tell them he's been jumping between alleys and sleeping on top of buildings when at all possible. And that if he's lucky and is able to sneak into his High school, he can make more web fluid so he can at least be somewhat comfortable in a makeshift hammock- hanging on the highest building so as not to be seen. The webbing and any newspapers he finds are a God send when the nights grow too cold for him to move in the morning. The sun breaking from the horizon is the only thing that gets him up and about.

Instead, he only shrugs at the group and responds quietly, "everywhere I guess."

Tony is able to move himself to talk again, his body language now less than the relaxed position it held in the car on the way here. "Friends you could stay with?"

Peter shakes his head immediately. "Only one. Besides, I would be putting him in danger."

He doesn't elaborate anymore than that. They don't need to know about Ned or that he was very aware about him being Spider-man. Thankfully he doesn't mention the fact that he actually stood the night at Ned's place. Tony wasn't dumb either, he could put together that the one friend was the guy Peter was found sleeping in the bed of and he'd clearly stated before that Ned knew his identify.

He doesn't mention it, though.

"That would explain why you're hiding from CPS." Tony says. He doesn't say it like a question but with enough confidence like he already knows the answer.

Peter's silence is enough of an affirmation.

Steve nods to himself and the soldier beside him gives him a weary glance. When Captain America doesn't say a word, or anyone else for that matter, he cuts in.

"So, you're Spider-man…"

Peter looks over at the man who has his hair pulled back into a ponytail. His metal arm crooked into the elbow of his other very normal arm. Peter gauges him, taking in his stance and how different it appears from the concern in his face.

"Yes?" Peter responds in confusion.

"Forgive my friend, he's a little out of the loop." Steve says.

Tony snorts.

"I understand your selfless behavior, but you're too young to be thinking like that."

"Bucky." Steve warns.

"Don't 'Bucky' me. It's true."

Peter agrees. God, does he agree but he can't just give up being Spider-man to be a kid again. Not after everything he's seen and done. "I have these powers. And-and it's my responsibility to use them for good." He laughs, still sore from the previous subject being thrown around the room. "Who's gonna look out for the little guy, you know?"

And they do know. Tony understands that there are people on the streets dealing with criminals daily. But being an Avenger keeps them occupied with the bigger, world ending disturbances when they come. It's a nice change to know that at least someone is helping the average New York citizen.

"And good on you, kid." Tony praises.

Peter feels warmth rise in his cheeks from those words and lowers his head to keep the others from seeing it. 


	10. Bit of Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony looks at it with such a level of awe that Peter almost fanboys at that exact moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize in advance that this chapter is shorter than the rest.  
It felt like the most natural place to end this chapter since the next is pretty intense, but I hope you enjoy this one either way.  
I'm very grateful to all of you who have left comments thus far and can't wait to hear what else you have to say.  
Enjoy!

"So, you're all Avengers?" Peter breaks the continuing silence. It seems to be turning into a habit.

Pointedly, Happy gets up from his seat beside Tony and puts both of his hands in the air. "Yeah, kid, except this guy."

Peter blinks. "I mean… you drive around Tony Stark. You're like, super strong I bet."

Tony and Happy exchange a glance, the latter seeming more amused about the comment than anything.

Happy smiles widely and gives a hearty laugh. One that starts from his sternum and up his chest. He waves a hand at Tony, the other wiping non-existent tears from his eyes. "Hear that, Tony?" He laughs again and turns towards Peter. "This man has a multimillion dollar suit of armor and just a few days ago I had to pick him up out of the rain because he forgot his umbrella."

Tony looks about ready to argue but Happy continues.

"And that other time you were invited to the Prime Minister's dinner party. You got blackout drunk in another country and I had to practically carry you to the car."

"It was a boring dinner party." Tony says in defense.

"Yeah, boring enough to make a fool of yourself." The conversation carries back over to Peter. "Anyway, no, I'm not an Avenger, but important enough to keep this one from minor inconveniences."

Peter nods vigorously, a newfound respect growing for Happy now.

He suddenly wishes he'd stay longer, but apparently pressing duties need taking care of and Happy is soon waving goodbye to the team members and Peter before taking the elevator back down to the garage.

It's awkward again, only slightly, and Peter's beginning to feel the effects of his exhaustion and low metabolism really set in. It's like a stone weighing down in his stomach and his head feels cloudy all over again, like it did moments before he passed out from the tranqs. He shuffles his feet nervously when Clint speaks up from leaning against a wall beside Black Widow.

"Where do the webs come from?"

Peter blinks.

The others in the room look over at Clint and make almost similar faces of "really?", but Tony in particular merely looks intrigued, his scientific mind spinning gears from the promise of new knowledge.

Peter frowns and sighs in exasperation at the very idea of answering such a question. But, he figures, they don't exactly  _ know  _ where his powers came from.

"Umm…" he hesitates. From the curious glances aimed towards him, he swallows nervously and continues, "I… uh… make them?"

Tony quirks a brow and Clint stutters.

Ultimately, it's Steve Rogers who asks the question. "What do you mean 'make them'?"

"Like, naturally?" Clint asks.

Peter laughs nervously. "No-o. No, I mean like…" He lifts the sleeve of his sweatshirt and holds the makeshift webshooters out to them. "They're empty right now, though."

"You mean to tell me," Tony stands up and- with the confidence of one of the smartest people in the room- grabs hold of Peter's wrist and immediately analyzes every inch of the contraption. To be honest, it's not much more than plastic bits and plexiglass vials held together by super glue. Tony looks at it with such a level of awe that Peter almost fanboys at that exact moment. "You made these? You got a little science lab you're not telling us about? A…" he waves his hand like he's struggling to find the appropriate words. "Super Spider brain that lets you make this shit?"

Steve lifts a hand and is immediately called out by Tony.

"No, don't start, I'm serious. Have you guys even seen what this stuff can do?"

"Flipped over a double decker bus," Bucky supplies. 

"Hung two robbers to the side of a building," Natasha says.

"Yeah…, Peter swallows. "But… I just make them. It's a simple chemical formula with a starting base of salicylic acid and toluene combined...um…" Peter stops, all eyes in the room are on him, most of them written with confusion except for Tony Stark himself who's eyes glitter at his every word. But it's to be expected from the man who builds his own suits and provided one of the strongest sources of economically friendly energy to power his entire tower and beyond that.

"What else?" Tony urges him on.

Peter is about to continue after a moment of shock- that Iron Man is interested in his little school project- but Steve raises both hands and steps forward.

"Alright, Tony. Give the kid a break. You can talk science some other day, maybe even with Bruce since I know how involved you two get."

Peter gasps. "Bruce as in Bruce Banner?!"

Steve sighs and returns to his spot near the metal armed man who only laughs exasperatedly. 

"I've read all his essays on gamma radiation and wrote a paper on his involvement in the Super soldier program when I was in middle school."

Steve visibly winces and Peter, in a moment of clarity, realizes that the "super soldier" program might hit a few sore spots considering what it consisted of. 

"Oh- oh my God, yeah, those experiments were pretty bad actually. Sorry. But I think my Spider was somehow part of it or something- I mean, it's dead now, so-"

"What Spider?" Tony questions.

Peter closes his mouth, coming to the conclusion that maybe he had been talking a bit too much for too long and it was time to stop. But the moment anything excited him, he couldn't stop talking and it was a bad trait he was determined to break.

Black Widow reads the room and picks up on the growing tension in the room. "Maybe we could continue this conversation some other time. Clint and I have to head out soon and I'm sure you have some things to tinker on in the lab, Tony."

She gets up to leave, Clint standing up beside her with a hearty wave at the other occupants in the room as he walks ahead towards the elevator. But before the Black Widow can get far, Peter stands up and calls out to her. 

"Um… Black Widow Ma'am what's your name? I mean, nobody really says it on the news much and reporters aren't reliable at all and I haven't really kept close tabs on the Avengers that much and I didn't want to keep calling you Black Widow in my head-"

"Natasha. You can call me Nat, kid." She ruffles his hair and immediately begins walking away, into the elevator, waves at him from there, and the doors shut.

"The balls on this kid." Tony whistles.

Wherever it is that Peter got the courage to talk to her like that, he wants more of it. Never in his life had he been so upfront with someone- especially a trained assassin as cool as Black Widow. Though he did ramble until his breath gave out.

Tony, who is presently standing beside him claps his hands. "How's lunch sound?"

Peter, in the snap of a finger, subsequently passes out.


	11. The Adult's in the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter doesn't know Tony in the slightest, but the expression is easy enough to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize to anyone who has been waiting for this chapter.  
Lately I've been very busy working in my comic as well as other things in life, but i was finally able to post this chapter.  
Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment!

He hears whispering. Which, at first he assumes it's whispering until he stretches his hearing to the limit and realizes that it's Tony and Steve talking in another room. Better yet, talking about him.

"Tony, what are you going to do with a kid?"

"He's not just a kid- you know what he can do."

"That's besides the point. He is fifteen, Tony. He shouldn't be going around doing the stuff he's been doing, the stuff we've seen him do. He can get seriously hurt out there and you know that." There's a clear edge to Steve's voice.

"Yeah, well what am I supposed to do, tell him no, take his powers away for a month? He doesn't know us, we don't know him. If he's been doing this shit until now do you really think I can stop him?"

"Bucky agrees with me, Tony. Allowing a kid to continue going out there headfirst into danger is a stupid idea."

"And what's up with that? Bucky agreeing with you? He's not usually like that."

The conversation dwindles for a moment before Steve sighs.

"He's been around for a while, he's starting to see things for the way they are. Like this kid, he's too young-"

For some reason, Peter finds absolutely no comfort in eavesdropping on that conversation. And anyway, the more he stretches his hearing, the more his head starts to hurt. Which, in as long as Peter had his powers, had never happened before.

He chalks it up to his lack of sleep and possible fluctuating metabolism with the downgrade in food intake.

He instead takes his time to look around the room and realizes he's still in the penthouse _ ? Was that what Mr. Stark called it?  _ He's laying down on one of the couches from earlier, a heavy blanket draped over himself to which he's thankful since the weather outside only seemed to be getting colder. 

_ It's winter soon. Duh. _

He unconsciously pulls the blanket tighter over himself and snuggles down into it. It’s at this precise moment that Tony Stark comes walking out of whatever room he was previously in. There's a distinct lack of Captain America.

Tony makes his way over to the couch where Peter is laying and taps at his legs to get him to move them. Peter complies and the billionaire sits with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks about ready to lecture and Peter swallows nervously.

"What school do you go to that you're this smart?"

Peter blinks. Not the question he was assuming, but better than the other possible scenarios that were running through his head. He looks down at the school shirt that he's currently wearing, and pointedly cocks his head towards it. His High School logo is clearly visible, though it's faded and chipped around the corners of the design.

"Oh." Tony nods. "Right, makes sense. Thought you were just one of those kids that wore specific band t-shirts when you don't even know a single song by the artist."

Weird analogy, but okay.

"Also, is that a blood stain?"

"What?" Peter glances over his shoulder and then his hands, completely forgetting about the injury in his side now that he's unable to feel it much. 

Tony pokes a finger where the stain is and Peter immediately blushes. Unsurprisingly, it hasn't healed and even looks like it might have reopened according to the amount of blood on his shirt.

He sighs, realizing how hard it was going to be to remove the stain after.

Unconsciously, he brings a hand over to rest on the injury and hisses in pain when he pushes too hard. 

Tony immediately notices and responds, "God, of course. Hey, we got some painkillers, I can go ahead and grab you some and then we can take care of whatever shit you-"

"It's not gonna work," Peter interrupts.

"What?"

"Painkillers, they never work."

Steve walks into the room at that moment. "What's not going to work?"

"Painkillers?" Tony is the one to answer, but he still sounds just as confused as he did beforehand. 

"Yeah." Peter suspects he better inform them about himself before they waste perfectly good materials on him when it won't even work. "I have this… super fast metabolism and it practically eats through anything I take."

"What?" Tony practically shouts.

"It-uh… it's really good for healing fast and stuff but only really works if I keep the whole metabolism thing in check."

"Kid, I have no idea what you're even talking about? Are you saying you're like 'Cap over here?"

Steve pointedly stares at Tony. "I have a fast metabolism," he continues to say to Peter, "so I have to eat a lot more than average to keep up my body weight and practically any healing I do which tends to be about five times faster than the average man.. Courtesy of the Super Serum."

"What a way to show off," Tony scoffs.

"I can heal a bullet wound in, like, a day."

Neither Avenger responds. Steve has stopped moving entirely and Tony is opening and closing his mouth as though he has hundreds of questions to ask.

"If I eat enough, that is. The whole metabolism stuff is a key part in healing." 

"So your calorie intake affects how quickly you heal?"

"Well, that and my ability to even move. It's a lot I have to eat, I've just never done the schematics to find out exactly how much?"

Tony claps his hands together, startling the other two occupants of the room. "Which reminds me, little Spider kid over here passed out the moment I mentioned food."

Peter blushes profusely and tries his best to hide the redness of his face in his shoulder. 

"Hope you like pizza."

"He really should be having something healthier, Tony." Steve says this with a glance to Peter, eyeing him up and down and the teen immediately realizes how bad he must look. Especially with the new information he just fed them, the information on his metabolism and his inability to heal an injury were so closely hand in hand that even Flash could put the pieces together.

"Yeah, well, quicker just to order Pizza, Ms. America."

Steve scowls at the nickname.

"First let's deal with the little bleeding mess here and then we indulge in that classic New York style cardboard we have the audacity to call food."

Peter has the sudden need to defend his favorite food. "Pizza is the best, Mr. Stark."

Tony laughs. "Enough with that mister stuff, makes me feel old. Call me Tony."

"You are old, Tony."

"Don't start with me when you're twice my age."

Peter couldn't help but smile. After the wake of everything that had happened to him, a bit of friendly banter was something to look forward to. The fact that it was Steve Rogers and Tony Stark however made his stomach flip and his brain beg for autographs like the nerd he was.

Peter's smile nearly reaches his eyes.

  
  


It's Steve who's sent out to search for a first aid kit and while he does that Tony is on his phone ordering pizza, asking Peter what toppings he likes, and gives him the stink-eye when he's told to order Hawaiian. He places an order for three with pineapple topping.

Peter is peeling off his sweatshirt while Tony searches through the med kit for disinfectants when he asks the question.

"So, what are we gonna do with you, kid?"

Steve isn't here to soften the blow or give Peter reassuring glances. The situation is unnerving and he just removed his shirt too to reveal a bloody and purple injury. Tony tries to not look at his protruding ribs, but he clearly notices and winces. Peter pretends he doesn't feel terrible about it. He has his sweatshirt balled in his hands and worriedly wrings it between them.

"W-what do you mean?" He finally asks 

"I'm not sending you back out to live wherever you were before. I'm not that much of an asshole."

Peter doesn't laugh, though it's clearly meant to be a joke. Tony instead gets to work on the injury, cleaning it with wet gauzes and wiping it down with alcohol.

It stings bad, but Peter bites his lip. He feels the need to look stronger now that Tony Stark himself knows his identity as Spider-Man. His head is still reeling over that idea and he attempts to clear it from his mind. He's unsuccessful when the injury stings again and reminds of who's working on him, where he is, and how he even got into the situation in the first place.

Peter stays quiet, not bothering to respond any further to Tony's question. In all honesty, he actually doesn't know what he would say. If the decision is entirely up to Peter, even if he would much rather have somewhere warm to stay, he would tell Tony that he was fine on the street. And, technically, he didn't sleep  _ on _ the street and since he was Spider-Man and had superhuman abilities he would easily be able to take care of himself. 

There was still the matter of food and staying warm when the weather truly changed into the winter season, but he could find a way to make money for the little necessities he would need.

He wants to tell Tony exactly what he's thinking, but when he turns, prepared to tell him what it is he suggests, Peter spots the look on the man's face. He's hovering over the injury with a gauze bandage, yet his eyes are locked onto the teen's. Tony is stone-faced, his lips forming a straight line and his gaze hardened. It's the look of determination and a stark contrast to his indecisiveness from earlier. Peter doesn't know Tony in the slightest, but the expression is easy enough to read.

"I'm an adult."

Peter wants to respond with an obvious remark but holds his tongue.

"So I'm the one who's gonna make the decision. That means you're staying here, with the rest of this hick team unless we figure something else out."

Peter blinks. He's still for a moment longer than would feel comfortable in an average situation before he softly responds, "what?"


	12. Pizza Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When, finally, Peter spots boxes upon boxes of pizza, he's lost to his hunger and takes the entire box Tony offers him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to wish everyone luck and hope y'all are staying safe during this pandemic.  
If you're isolating, I promise to make these chapters at least a bit longer for those of you who need to stay home.  
In this trying time, a little fanfic goes a long way.  
Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter and stay safe out there
> 
> Don't forget to comment!

"Mr. Stark, I was doing fine on my own."

"Were you? Because in your desperate attempt to find someplace safe to hunker down, you snuck into  _ my  _ tower."

"I only got caught cuz your computer whatever trapped me inside!"

"For a good fucking reason, kid."

"I'm sorry. What's going on?" Steve interrupts. He's conveniently walked back into the room now, his shoulders stiff and eyes glancing between the millionaire and newly declared vigilante.

"Spider-kid here is insisting on going back to living like a superhuman hobo."

"What?"

"I'm not!" Peter huffs in exasperation. Tony thankfully has finished cleaning his wound and Peter stands, with some effort, to prove that he's able to hold his own weight at the moment. Though it might only be for the moment, he can feel the beginnings of exhaustion weighing down on him again. "I'm old enough to take care of myself and I'm way stronger than Captain America even. I don't need to be looked after!"

"What's with the animosity all of a sudden, kid? Taking a jab at 'Cap now?" Tony has calmed down significantly since the presence of the other man.

Peter hopes it stays that way.

"I just don't need any handouts. I don't need to be with someone only-" he stops himself. His next train of thoughts is disturbing. "I'm fine. I don't need you to waste money on me."

"I'm a billionaire. I'm not wasting money on anyone. Nothing would be wasted from helping you out."

"But I-" Peter chokes, "I don't need help. I've been fine."  _ Right? _

"I'd beg to differ," Tony says.

Peter wants to make a rebuttal out of pure annoyance, but realizes quickly how it'll sound like. He's acting like some whiny kid when in reality he should take what he can get and move on. If Tony Stark insists on giving him a little hand for the meantime, then fine. But Peter was definitely not a charity case, especially to Iron Man when Peter was strong enough to make it on his own.

He can make it on his own. He just needed to figure out the gist of living without any parents or a safe environment while also throwing out punches and saving civilians as Spider-Man. He can handle it.

At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

Before Peter can respond to Tony, Steve speaks up- his hand in a placating gesture. 

"Why don't we figure everything else out later. I'm sure Peter is hungry and so am I if that injury is anything to go by."

Peter blushes up to his ears when Tony gives him a knowing glare. Maybe he shouldn't have told them what it meant that his metabolism and healing factor went hand-in-hand. More things they would have to hang on his head that he would need to wiggle out of. Somehow.

Tony leads the two into a common room, similar to the Penthouse they were in prior, but larger and set up more for comfort. It's several floors below the Penthouse and Peter's too tired to actually remember where.

There are large, L shaped couches, a ninety inch flatscreen T.V. and a kitchen opposite to that. The windows span an entire wall and allow the natural sunlight to filter through, but Peter is quick to notice that one window is darker than the others- tinted maybe. There's a PS4 to one side of a table and Peter has to wonder if there are any kids in the tower besides himself.

When, finally, Peter spots boxes upon boxes of pizza, he's lost to his hunger and takes the entire box Tony offers him.

He's sitting on a couch alongside Tony and Steve who mindlessly watch a movie channel. At some point Bucky walks in and takes a box to sit beside Steve, interested wholeheartedly in whatever movie they're watching. Peter doesn't notice. A few moments later Hawkeye shows up, exchanges words with Tony and retreats elsewhere with a box himself.

Peter is so indulged in his meal that he hardly notices when Tony places several more slices into his now empty box- complaining over pineapple on pizza all the while. Peter eats everything that's in front of him.

He's dazed and can't think past the food that he's eating. Food he didn't have to dig around in bins for or feel guilty about when others around him didn't have nearly enough. Here, boxes upon boxes were still visibly available on the kitchen counter for anyone's taking.

Peter is forced to put down his last slice, regrettably, when his stomach begins to churn. It's at this thought that he forces himself to stop eating and pray that the insane amount of food his body suddenly acquired would actually stay down for the remainder of the night.

Tony shifts beside him and places a hand on his forearm. When Peter meets his eyes, he looks softer and more understanding. 

"Wanna hang out here or get some sleep in a room?"

Peter, thankfully, nods his head and mutters, "a room would be nice." 

He's beyond exhausted. Now that he's had some food in himself too, it feels like he might pass out from how content he is. Hopefully not too content to throw everything up, but content nonetheless. 

Tony gets up and Peter follows at a much more sedate pace, keeping his stomach from churning anymore than it already is. He would much rather keep the food in his body _in_ _his body_.

They're headed for a set of halls on the same floor and Tony gently leads him to a door at the end- hand on his shoulder as if to keep him balanced. Peter has been swaying the entire thirty second walk here. The door is pushed open and without further inspection Peter is led directly to a four-poster bed. The cushions are thick enough that when Tony pulls them back the mattress looks significantly lower. 

When Peter lays himself down on it, the mattress sinks to fit his shape and he sighs in content. He's nearly drifted off already by the time Tony pulls the blanket down on him and softly says a "goodnight, bud". 

Peter is dead asleep within seconds.

  
  


Peter climbs out of bed, his stomach aching more so than it did before he'd eaten. And as expected, he feels his mouth fill with saliva and he rushes to another door in the room. It could easily be a closet, but to his luck it's a fully equipped bathroom. He's at the toilet in a moment, hands gripping the seat while he chokes out the offending amount of food in his body. 

Tears trickle down his nose from the acidic taste and he spits the remainder when he's finally done.

Peter sits back on his heels, his body shaking from exertion; he sits on the bathroom floor for a while. His head is spinning now and he feels significantly worse than before. He scolds himself for eating so much, but can't find it in him to actually care. Just to have a minute of fullness and none of the impending, rolling guilt was worth it.

He hadn't had a good pizza in a while either, which he can't exactly attest to since he's not entirely sure how it tasted; he was more concerned with eating enough than flavor.

He didn't necessarily eat anything in actuality. 

He groans at the reminder and sets the toilet seat down when he's sure nothing else is going to come up. He goes through the routine of washing his face and then his hands, even his neck, before he's sitting on the bed again.

His hair is unkempt and he lazily runs a hand through it. He taps the rhythm to a song on his knee. He takes a moment to glance around the plain room. Contemplates going back to sleep.

Peter sighs, coming to an immediate and coerce decision. 

He's sneaking out of the room, wary of anyone else out in the hall, and makes his way to the elevator the moment he sees it. He isn't sure what floor he's on, but calls for the first as soon as he's inside.

"What's wrong, Mr. Parker?" 

The sudden voice surrounding him sends Peter jolting. Comedically enough, if he had enough energy he might have ended up stuck to the elevator roof.

"Mr. Parker?"

"R-right," he chokes. "I uh… was just heading out."

The AI, Peter already forgot her name, goes silent for a moment. The elevator doors shut and it starts moving, but Peter immediately notices that the digital number is rising.

"We're going up."

"Yes, Mr. Parker. I was informed by boss that if you were to attempt to leave I take you straight to him."

Peter frowns. His plans are being foiled by a computer.

"I should've escaped through a window."

"I regret to inform you, they are made from bullet-proof glass and will only open on my command, Mr. Parker."

"Peter's fine."

"Alright, Peter. Good luck with boss."

The elevator dings and the doors open. Standing right in front of Peter is Tony Stark himself. He doesn't look pleased in the slightest.

"Peter. Goddamn. Parker. Why am I not surprised?" His arms are crossed and his head is shaking with disappointment.

It would be funny. But of course Peter's in trouble so it's not. 

He steps off the elevator and watches as the doors shut slowly behind him, almost mockingly as if they knew the situation he was currently in.

Peter huffs, wraps his arms around himself and prepares for a billionaire tirade.

Tony looks almost too calm now, his stance has gone lax and his posture changes detrimentally. He's watching Peter, taking in the sweating and shaking that even the teenager himself hadn't noticed until at that precise moment 

"You alright?"

"Yeah." Peter responds immediately.

"Good, cuz now I need to know where you thought you were heading off to?"

"Out." 

Peter feels bitter now. He doesn't want someone worrying about him and he's feeling short-tempered. He wishes he could just go home and see Aunt May and watch movies with her while they order take-out like they always do. But he can't. Instead, his only relative is gone and now Iron Man knows he's Spider-Man. He can't even eat properly without it all coming back up and his body feels worse than it did before he got spider powers.

It sucks.

"Out isn't good enough. It's two in the morning, kid, you should be sleeping and then waking up early so we can figure out this mess that you're in." Tony says.

"I don't need to figure anything out. None of you need to 'figure anything out'." 

"Yes, we do, you're a minor."

"Sure. But I also happen to have superpowers too, I can take care of myself." Peter's not sure where this conversation went sour, but he's feeling flighty now. His head hurts and his fists are curling up so tight that he's scared he might punch something.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Stark." He says this in such a matter of fact tone that the conversation feels abrupt, as if it's hit a dead end.

Peter doesn't mean to sound rude, but if he's not he might never leave. He can't stay around the Avengers. They can't be anywhere near his personal life if he wants to continue what he's doing.

In all honesty, Peter's not sure why he doesn't want them to help; it just feels wrong to allow them to meddle in his life. He made the mess he was in and it was his responsibility to get himself out. It sounds like a dumb reason, even to himself, but if he tries to look for the real reason…

"Where'd I go wrong?" Tony's voice cuts through Peter's narrative. It's softer than before with a hint of guilt between the words.

Peter feels bad when he says what he says, but it was best for him to forget instead. "You didn't. Just thought it would be a good idea to help a kid. I'll be fine." And he heads for the elevator again, pushes the button and steps inside when the doors open.

"I'll stay with a friend, Mr. Stark." It's such a white light that even Tony appears not to believe it. Either way, he lets it slide for whatever reason.

"You can call anytime you need something. Hell, come to the tower. You're welcome here, Spider-Man."

Peter nods. "Thanks."


	13. To Be Determined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really, really hopes it isn't the real deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing well during this time of crisis. I want to wish all of you good luck and want to remind everyone to keep yourself and everyone else around you safe.   
See you soon in the next update!  
I have a little something extra planned for the next one :)

It takes Peter's every ounce of willpower to walk out of Avengers tower and look like he belongs for the sake of his embarrassment. There are people still hovering around the building and cabs pulling up. Every person stares him down when he walks out and he tries his best to put on a confident stride.

It's so dark in certain corners of Manhattan that Peter easily slinks through the shadows where he wouldn't be seen. He knows he's Spider-Man, but other people don't. And if people see a kid walking by himself, he doesn't want to risk getting jumped when he's not in costume.

It takes him a while to reach the subway, fully intending on heading back to Queens to make more web fluid at school and back to search for the bag he's stashed somewhere.

He searches his pockets for coins, only finding two dimes and a quarter- nowhere near enough for a subway ticket. He ends up leaping over the ticket barrier and sliding onto a train without being spotted.

No one sees him. Anyway, the people crazy enough to be taking a train so late at night are either high out of their minds or as homeless as he is.

Peter frowns at himself. He hates referring to himself as homeless because people who actually are need the help and deserve it more than he does. He's got security in his superpowers at least while they fear for their lives every day. Peter has nothing on his plate compared to them.

He's on a lone subway car. The few people on the train with him are either several down or none at all. Peter barely sees a head in a car in the distance, but that's about it. He takes any seat he prefers, laying back and kicking out his legs to rest them for the hour long ride it's going to take him to head back to Midtown. The ride could be a lot longer so he has nothing to complain about. He can rest easy too until the train makes it to his stop.

The stops that the train makes along the way are uneventful. At two, there's nobody waiting when the doors open. At another, a single man gets onto his train car and Peter immediately becomes vigilant. His senses are heightened immediately when the guy comes stumbling in absolutely trashed and reeking of alcohol, but thankfully he doesn't try anything-barely even acknowledges Peter's existence as he all but passes out on the opposite side of the train car.

It's another few minutes before it's Peter's stop. He regretfully pushes himself to his feet and steps out into the musky smelling subway tunnels, climbing the steep stairs back up towards the surface.

There are storefronts still lit up from the inside and street lights glowing on the pavement. This offers at least some visibility as Peter makes his way towards his old High School, keeping watch of every corner in his vision-not fully trusting his senses at the moment to give him fair warning. They've been giving false alarms for some time now and he hopes this trek doesn't bring up any as well.

But the night is uneventful. Peter makes it to his High School in record time and jumps over the front gate when he's sure no one is looking. He makes his way around the building towards an open window in the teacher's lounge and sneaks through the halls, careful of making noise after knowing fully well that there was a possible security guard roaming the school. It was a school for advanced, scientific minds; it wasn't a strange thing to have extra watch at night.

Again, his caution is rewarded when he enters the science lab without incident.

The formula for his web fluid is fairly simple. He stumbles only once over the procedure when his head grows cloudy, but other than that he's finished enough for another week in the span of thirty minutes.

The sun is climbing by the time he finishes and he takes cautionary steps out of the room after putting all the materials he used back into their original spots. Peter is even sure to turn vials and beakers into their perfect clockwise position as to not arouse suspicion. He's doubtful that anyone would suspect him of sneaking into the school after missing for so long, but who knows. He's even pulled the hood of his jacket over his head.

He's not sure why he does it or why he's careful about hiding his face, can't seem to remember, but a sound at the end of the hall brings it back. There are cameras in certain corridors as any school should have and a night security guard. It's a school for scientifically advanced students with high end equipment. Of course there's security.

He sees the tail end of a flashlight before he books it back to the teacher's lounge and out the window. He wasn't as quiet or as inconspicuous as he had hoped, but in the end he'd avoided getting caught. 

Peter huffs in a deep breath and doesn't stop running until he's far passed the school- for good measure.

He's not entirely sure where he's headed now, but he's navigating the streets to his last patrol stops, looking in every location where he might have dropped his bag before the whole "Avengers Tower" debacle.

The bag has everything he needs in there to survive and the idea of losing it makes Peter's stomach drop like a stone. His phone, extra clothes, what little money he has stashed away at the bottom. He's begging whoever's listening that he finds it before the night is completely over-the sun is already glittering off the glass windows of buildings around him. When day breaks, people will start asking questions and he'd rather have normal clothes to blend in with then his makeshift suit.

It's clearly around six to seven in the morning and Peter is growing desperate. He's checked behind twelve dumpsters at this point and still no sign of his backpack. He's tempted to use his webs to cover more ground, if he wasn't trying to conserve them, when at the final dump he finds his backpack still webbed up securely to the brick wall behind it.

Peter almost feels like crying when he at last has it in his hands.

He changes quickly into a plaid shirt, a pair of jeans, and then-when he realizes how cold it actually is outside-pulls out the one coat he's stuffed into his bag. He wraps it around himself and zips it all the way to his chin for good measure. He wished he could say it still smelled like May, but it didn't. Not anymore.

Peter shakes his head to clear the thoughts away, pulling his arms around himself to keep in the warmth as he heads away from the dumpster and out towards the main street. There’s a noticeable increase in people now, heading to work, selling small business goods, heading to school, etc. Peter feels a little out of place in the bustling environment. His backpack swung over his shoulder fits well with the students, but he feels nostalgic about High School.

What a turn of events. In the past he would’ve been excited about getting out of school, looking forward to the weekend and the time he got after school to swing around as Spider-Man and save people. Those were the days when he felt like his life was finally getting somewhere. He had his best friend at the same school as him, he was studying one of his favorite subjects in the best science tech schools there were west side of Queens. Aunt May was still a ridiculously bad cook, but getting to eat out with her when she wasn’t busy working was a huge plus. Everything was looking up after a while of plenty of downs. Of course, with his “Parker Luck”, nothing lasted long.

Peter pulls both of the straps of his backpack over his shoulders and pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, trying his best to hide his face and mix with the growing congestion of people.

Peter's not sure what compels him, but at nine he's sitting in the back booth of a McDonald's charging his phone. Some kid of a nearby High School offers him food he isn't able to finish and it easily becomes Peter's breakfast. His hunger is on the rise again, but the idea of using the last of his bills on food at the moment isn't very appealing.

There will be other times where he's so hungry he can't stand anymore and that's when he'll really need it.

His phone buzzes to life and with a child-like sense of glee Peter smiles down at it.

It's when the screen actually reveals pop up notifications that his heart plummets.

He hasn't had his phone charged in a long while mostly for his own sake of mind. But seeing it now reminds Peter exactly why he let it die in the first place and never put it to charge.

First off is the phone's background. A picture of Peter, May, and Ben stood together at an aquarium in a museum, but the most unsettling part is the amount of messages popping up when his phone finally connects to the McDonald's WiFi. 

** _56 missed calls from Ned ;)_ **

** _48 Voicemails from Ned ;)_ **

** _113 messages from Ned ;)_ **

Peter only has a moment to divulge in the information that his friend had been worried out of his mind over him when a new pop up appears and his phone vibrates dangerously.

** _1 new message from Unknown_ **

Peter unlocks his phone immediately, but hovers over the home screen. He's not sure what he's supposed to be doing right now.

** _2 new messages from Unknown_ **

He squints at the notification, not sure if he should click to see who it's from or ignore it entirely. His curiosity gets the better of him and he navigates towards his text app.

_ Unknown: _

** _Hey. Don't ask how I got your number._ **

_ Unknown: _

** _Okay that sounded weird. Its Tony_ **

Peter delicately places his phone on the table face down. He's not sure whether he wants this to be real or for it to be a scammer.

He's really hoping it's a scammer.

The phone vibrates again. Peter really, really hopes it isn't the real deal.


	14. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better to start off dumb than actually accepting the fact that Tony Stark was the one messaging him.

Peter goes through every emotion his body deems possible at the moment. He stares at his phone in awe and then shock, then confusion. He’s not sure what to think of the number suddenly messaging him. In reality, he doesn’t want to answer mostly because he knows it wouldn’t be a joke for the Millionaire to message him. But if he did ignore it, Tony Stark could easily hack into his phone and find his location only to absolutely demolish his confidence of hiding in plain sight. Nobody could hide if they had _ the _Iron Man suddenly showing up for them.

He really doubted Tony would have the time to actually look him up in order to meet at a McDonald’s of all places. He was an Avenger, none of them had time to talk to a kid like him.

_ So why did he text me? _

If he needed something, that was one thing. Peter was nervous that it might have to do with his secret identity, though. Anything involving Spider-Man would spell bad news for Peter. 

It’s almost like Tony knows how much Peter is overthinking it because his phone suddenly vibrates again and threatens to fall off the table from the corner it’s been set on.

Peter reaches for it dramatically and catches an employee’s eye in the process. He smiles nervously at them and quickly averts his gaze down towards his phone.

_ Unknown: _

** _Hello?_ **

_ Unknown: _

** _you gonna ignore me again?_ **

Peter swallows and types in the slowest fashion he’s ever seen his own hands move.

_ Me: _

** _Who’s this?_ **

Better to start off dumb than actually accepting the fact that Tony Stark was the one messaging him. He still had a faint glimmer of hope that maybe this wasn’t the same Tony he met only hours prior. The Tony who owned Avengers Tower and very recently found out that Spider-Man was a high schooler. 

Peter drums his fingers on the table, waiting impatiently for a response when he doesn't get one back for another several minutes.

_ Unknown: _

** _[Picture message]_ **

** _Believe me now_ **

Peter practically chokes on air when the image on his phone finally downloads. It's Tony Stark in all his tired, millionaire glory. 

Peter turns his phone over in his hands, considers what to respond, before settling on a simple:

** _How do you have my nummer_ **

** _*number_ **

Peter wants out of the conversation already. He doesn't want to know how or why Tony has his number. Why he's texting especially.

To be honest, Peter doesn't like having to text Tony Stark. It feels weird and a little bit awkward if he has to admit. He's already getting up out of his seat in the McDonald's- his phone resting at a comfortable 78%, so he's not entirely worried about draining the battery. He's shoving the leftovers the teenager from earlier gave him into his bag and wrapping the charger before putting that away as well.

If he's going to have a conversation, he'd prefer to do it outside and out of earshot from anyone who might find his phone call entertaining.

His phone buzzes again but he ignores it in lieu of stepping outside and hovering around the park a block away. Without the protection of the sheer amount of people enveloping the sidewalks, cold chills from the incoming winter easily catch Peter. He wraps his arm around himself when his Spider sense spikes for no reason. A quick glance around confirms that there's no immediate danger and he sighs before fishing the phone out of his jacket pocket.

He's connected to a hipster coffee shop's WiFi in order to make the call. Peter ignores the unread text at the top of his screen and waits impatiently for the number to ring. It ends and sends him to an automated voicemail. He's about to tap the number again when he gets the returning call. Nervously, he lets it ring for a while before finally answering. His hands are shaking and there's a slight chatter to his teeth. He's not sure if he should blame the nerves or the cold weather.

"Hey, kid, what's up? Was in the middle of a meeting, you know?" His tone sounds rough.

Peter immediately feels himself choke on the nonexistent air in his lungs. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," he's quick to apologize, "I-I should've asked before-"

But Tony cuts him off with a succession of laughter. "Nah, I'm kidding. Was working on a suit upgrade. Shit can wait."

"Oh."

Peter puffs an annoyed breath of air at the unnecessary apology he'd spewed. His senses were currently going haywire and adding his rising anxiety didn't seem to be doing it any better.

"What's up? You called me?"

"R-right."

"Also, you're talking to a genius. That's how I got your number."

Peter nods, though he's not entirely convinced. "I assumed you got it from Ned."

"Yeah, tried that. Wouldn't give it. Stubborn nerd."

This causes Peter to laugh, his face pulling into a forced smile as he fondly thinks of his friend.

_ A brave soul. _

When another gust of wind hits Peter, he pulls his face down into the hood of his jacket, pulling the zipper almost over his nose to keep the chill from going down his shirt. Peter sits himself under a tree and tries to get comfortable on the stone bench beside it, his unoccupied hand finding the pocket of his jacket and hiding there.

"So, Steve chewed me out."

"Over what?"

"Got mad I let you leave. Said you're a kid and all that good stuff."

Peter huffed. "I'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

"Right?!" Tony agrees and Peter feels weird about it, but finds himself nodding. "I mean, this is the guy that joined the war when he was an actual twig."

Oh.

Peter felt a twinkle in his eyes at the idea of being able to hear embarrassing stories about Captain America. Now was not the time and place, but when would it ever be?

"Let me tell you, the guy was smaller than you."

It feels like mindless babble, but just talking keeps Peter's mind off of the soon-to-be hell that a winter in New York is going to be like. Admittedly, he enjoys being able to talk to someone even if half of the conversation is about people and places he's never heard of. He could call Ned, but that would lead to a conversation he's not willing to have. Ned would be worried the whole time and try to figure things out for him when Peter clearly didn't want that. He could handle himself just fine. 

If the price of being Spider-Man was this, so be it.

It's been an hour and Tony and Peter have talked about everything from the weather to Quantum theory. Tony still worked on renovations to his suit but left his phone on speaker. Peter could faintly hear music playing in the background and bit back the urge to ask if it was ACDC or Led Zeppelin; he could never tell the difference between the two.

The conversation halts at a slow pace. Someone enters the lab to tell Tony that he's needed elsewhere. Said person shows up again and tells him "when I say you're needed, I mean now". They return a few moments later to question who Tony is talking to, to which Tony immediately tells them it's none of their business. So, the conversation ends pretty abruptly in actuality, but Peter doesn't necessarily mind considering Tony Stark has more important things to do than talk to a kid.

"You sure you don't need anything?" Tony asks Peter for the third time in a roll. He's been insisting on at least sending him some cash or finding a place for him to stay that won't cause as much trouble as Peter fears. But Peter refuses even though he feels Tony is doing it to be nice.

"I'm good, Mr. Stark, I promise."

"Well, you have my number now. Log it. Let me know if you ever need anything."

"I will." He won't. "Thanks, Mr. Stark"

The call ends and Peter finds himself holding his phone between shaking hands before depositing it into his jacket pocket, picking up his bag, and heading back towards the upper parts of New York city where his makeshift safe house resides. The sun is high in the sky and he can't wait to get back "home" to enjoy the last bits of sun that he can as close as he can get to the heat.

It's a ten minute walk from the park he'd been sitting in for over an hour and he makes quick work of sneaking past the "no trespassing" sign and climbing the back wall of the building. He's placed himself at the highest floor of the building. No one on the ground can climb up to it considering the floors beneath it are so rotten and the stairs leading upwards have caved in. It's the safest place a kid with the ability to climb flat surfaces can hide.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter.  
I hope you enjoyed it and please don't forget to leave a comment!


	15. Just My Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter… Isn't sure how he's going to get out of this one. He messed up, bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for the delay of this one, but I wanted to make it longer than usual and I kept rewriting this chapter since there were a few inaccuracies along the way.  
Either way, I hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to let me know what you thought of it!

Five days later and the two have stayed in contact. Tony, on his part, makes sure to call Peter the first few days to see how he was doing, offer him anything and remind him that anything he needed was always on the table. Peter of course refused every time.

On the fourth day of their daily phone call, Peter was still laying in what could be deemed his makeshift bed on the rotting floor of an office building. He was wrapped in the same jacket he'd always been wearing and a threadbare blanket he'd been able to scrounge up from a Goodwill. He'd felt immensely guilty putting his food money to it and now he was really feeling the effects. 

The last couple Spider-Man patrols were the worst he'd ever experienced. The suit he wore for agility worked against him with the weather dropping 10 degrees in a single day. He moved stiffly when he fought criminals and found it rare if he swung through buildings like he usually would. His teeth would chatter so much that he'd all but given up at tossing a quip here and there at unsuspecting muggers.

New York was reaching that freezing point it usually did and this time Peter had little protection against the elements. 

The sun is close to setting by the time Peter finally sits up and forces his stiff muscles to move. If he could, he'd stay in bed all day and sleep off the exhaustion that's eating up every last bit of his energy. But he has no bed and has no choice.

He hurries into his Spider-Man costume, which at this point all he needs to do is switch his winter coat for the flimsy hoodie; he's already wearing his blue school sweatshirt and sweatpants underneath. He takes the coat with him only to wear it for the duration of his stakeout. 

He's sitting on the building of a roof closer to Manhattan now with his jacket zipped up and the hood pulled over his head. The chill winds from being so high up are prominent, but Peter needs the height to get a better view of everything happening below him. It gives him a better vantage point to hear and see everything considering his senses are still giving him false calls..

He rubs at a fresh bruise on the side of his jaw, evidence to his senses giving misinformation. He wishes he could’ve showed the guy who did it just what he thought about his stupid hair and dumb clothes for puncing him, but the cops got there too quickly before he could do anything about it. That was a weird train of thought, though. Peter laughs at the ridiculousness of it even though none of his energy gets put into the sound; he’s too tired to laugh properly about anything at the moment.

Tony has called him just this day five different times. And every call, Peter lets it go to voicemail, only now is when he sends a text to tell the Billionaire that no, he’s not dead and everything’s fine. Though, truthfully, none of that is actually fact. He’s beyond tired and would really like to at least sleep in a warm bed for a single night if he could. Just the idea alone makes the chill in the air ten times worse than it actually is.

There’s another ring on his phone moments later. It’s Tony again, but he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone. He’s in the middle of a patrol and Peter would prefer to sit in agonizing silence than lie to someone who says he’s only worried about the kid.

Peter doesn’t want anyone to worry about him and without realizing it, he accidentally makes it worse by refusing to talk to them. Tony has done nothing but give Peter space and allow him to figure out everything for himself. 

Peter silences his phone, ignores the multiple texts coming through from both Tony and Ned, and swings down from the building at a group of suspicious looking people.

They’re huddled in a group in dark hoodies- very obviously up to something.

When he’s close enough, Peter wills every ounce of power in his tired body and gives the group a moment before clearing his throat, hands at his hips and waiting expectantly.

They all turn to look at him, three to be exact. They’re all relatively young, older than Peter, but probably at least in their early thirties. One of them practically leaps in their skin when they see that Spider-Man is staring right at them.

Peter would make a joke about the masks that they have in their hands, but his Spidey Senses are going so crazy that his attention is dividing practically in every direction. Not even realizing it, he notices that he's in his hometown, weird, on streets that he swore he'd walked down with Ned before. Double weird. 

"What's, uh, what's going on, guys? Book club?"

He catches a glance of something ominously glowing coming from one of the guys' concealed bags. 

"Evil book club?"

He doesn't have another chance to react before a fourth guy shows up from around a corner and pulls out his own weapon. It blasts through Peter and sends him careening down the street nearly a block away. There aren't other people out right now and Peter finds himself alone on a sidewalk getting back on his feet and returning to the guys who have now taken the weapons to opening an ATM. They haven't even bothered to put on their Party City Avengers masks.

Peter has enough fight in him to rush the first two guys in the bank lobby and quickly tackle them to the ground while the third readies his own weapon and the fourth is busy bagging cash. Peter blocks a fist aimed for his head and shoots a web at the guy before pulling hard enough to send him through the bank window.

Peter grimaces at how hard he'd had to throw the guy to get that reaction and continues for the fourth. He's still bagging money, as if not realizing the situation his buddies are in.

From behind him, one of the knocked down figures gets up and immediately knocks Peter off his feet with a sweep of his legs. He hits the ground with a grunt and makes to stand back up. But before he can, a weapon is aimed his way, shoots, and keeps him stiff. In the air. Frozen. 

Peter almost takes a breath to marvel at the sheer cool-ness of the tech. Almost. He shoots a web at it, dragging it away from the man holding it, and feels himself return to gravity. He hits the floor again and the conscious men stand to their feet looking to make a run for it.

"Oh, no you-" 

Peter doesn't have time to finish his sentence before the weapon in his hands explodes, sending a cascade of glass shards and money flying from the building-not to mention all of the people in the bank including Peter himself. He gets blasted backwards so fast that his body gets a good many feet in the air. The only real problem is that the weapon is still trailing after him from the single web he'd shot at it. 

Peter desperately tries to remove it when he catches the weapon preparing to give off another blast. He succeeds only minimally and makes to leap over the building in the alley he's currently stationed. The weapon explodes once more and Peter goes hurtling upwards, hits a fire escape with his side and then his webshooters blow from the searing heat of the explosion and impact. In a matter of seconds, webbing is everywhere and Peter is smack dab in the middle of it, hovering over a charred piece of metal several meters below himself.

He can hear very distant police sirens and only then realizes how far from the bank he actually is.

Peter… Isn't sure how he's going to get out of this one. He messed up, bad. He's trying to reach for his phone now to maybe call for help because he can't get out of this mess himself. But who would he call anyway if he even reached his phone. Ned wouldn't be able to get up five stories of a building and reach out of a window to cut him down. Not only that, by the time Ned could even make it to Peter the webs would've dissolved long on their own.

He flexes his left hand and jolts suddenly when a strand of webbing gives. It drops him a foot lower and his heart is now in his throat, pounding away at the fall that could have happened just then.

Peter swallows nervously and tries his best not to move again. He can feel the phone vibrating in his pocket and nervously bites his lip at the possibility that the vibrations themselves can offset the webbing he's trapped in.

To Peter, the time moves at a sluggish pace now. He's been hanging from his webs from what he can only assume has been ten minutes-based on the rate and amount of calls he's received since getting stuck. The chill is biting and his limbs and muscles ache all over. 

But he doesn't move. If he just waits for two hours, the webbing will dissolve and allow him to safely catch himself before he actually falls and gets hurt on the concrete below him.

Again, his arms are aching constantly now and one of his legs has gone numb. Peter worries that even if the webbing does dissolve he might not be able to catch himself from the impact with the ground.

His phone vibrates once more and he actively considers grabbing it and calling Tony Stark. He can only place guesses that either Ned or Tony is calling him. He puts his full bet on Tony considering they haven't had their daily call yet and it's already getting pretty late.

A shiver racks Peter's body then and his teeth chatter at the weather now dropping significantly.

The entire situation sucks. Peter's weak, bruised, hungry, and plain exhausted. Just trying to keep himself from splatting to the concrete several feet below him is all he asks for. He blinks wearily when the webbing gives out another inch when he shifts just enough to breathe and his phone begins to vibrate again.

"Shit. Shit."

This whole situation is an absolute nightmare. Peter wants out.

Except, he continues to hang in midair, limbs warped and pulled every which way and his head is starting to feel fuzzy by the slight incline of his body. It's another ten minutes before he attempts to escape again and the webbing just underneath his chest shifts slightly higher and stays dangerously close to his trachea.

That's when Peter truly starts to panic and the gravity of the situation hits home. A surge of adrenaline fills him and he takes it by quickly pulling an arm through the webbing to place it protectively between both his throat and the single, threatening strand of web. His other arm makes a snap movement towards his jacket pocket. From just that movement, he hears the webbing above him straining to hold his weight before releasing another foot. Peter bites his lip to keep himself from screaming at the severity of the situation and instead busies himself with pulling the phone from his pocket and gripping it as tightly as possible.

From where he's hanging, he can't see the screen of his phone and worries that if he lifts his head, the rest of the webbing would completely give out. Instead, he waits for the phone to vibrate once more before sliding his finger over the screen to answer the call. He's even more grateful when he remembers exactly where the speaker button is so he can hear who's on the other end.

Luck is on his side apparently because Tony Stark is suddenly talking over the line, his tone cutting but a twinge of worry in it.

"Hello? Kid, what the hell is going on?"

Peter is beyond relieved when he hears the man answer the phone. "Oh God, Mr. Stark, thank God."

"Hey, hey, what's going on? I've been calling you for like an hour. Why haven't you picked up the phone? Saw on camera feed you were at some bank stopping some guys or some shit-"

They were definitely going to talk about that spying later.

"Yeah, they had crazy weapons- but I'm kinda in a situation." As if to emphasize his point, the webbing gives out a little more and his phone almost slips out of his hand from the strand now wound tightly around his wrist. Just holding the phone is proving impossible. "Mr. Stark, I-I need help."

"Okay, I'm tracking you now, what happened kid, talk to me." 

Peter wants to explain his situation because he doesn't want the guy to actually panic and think he's in a serious problem. Oh, but he is. This is serious.

For confirmation, the webbing begins to creak-a sound Peter's only fully heard a few times when he was trying to hold a bus or a car from falling or landing somewhere it really shouldn't.

His heart is pounding now.

"Mr. Stark, I'm-Mr. Stark I'm gonna fall-"

"I gotcha, I'll be right there-"

The phone slips from his grip and when it hits the concrete it explodes into a thousand pieces. It goes deadly silent without Tony's voice to fill the alley and now is when Peter truly starts to freak out. 

He's pretty sure his wrist is broken and the nylon just continues to cut through his skin as he weighs down the webbing. His chest feels heavy and he knows at this point his face has gone fully red from the blood rushing to it. The webs have shifted so much that he's practically upside down now. If he were to fall now, his head would be making the landing first. Peter feels tears escape unwillingly from his eyes at just that thought alone.

His breath hitches and he tries to breathe as normally as he can with the webs tightening around his chest. One of his legs is so wrapped up that he can't feel it anymore. The other hangs freely in the air being absolutely useless.

It feels like minutes before he hears a distinctive woosh in the air and a familiar metal clanging followed by repulsors. Peter has never been happier to realize that Iron Man is here to help him. He releases a breath of relief, but immediately whimpers when the webbing gives that much more.

"Whoa, okay, hold still Underoos."

Peter's not even in his right mind to be offended by the nickname. He can still feel the tears dripping down his hairline.

"Just gotta…" He can see Tony now in his line of sight, though he's completely upside down in his eyes. All of New York actually is now.

Peter swallows and forces a smile. "H-hey, Mr. Stark. Real sorry."

Tony waves him off with a hand, still trying to survey the situation. His face covering of the Iron Man suit is on and the eyes are glowing brilliantly. The wind from the repulsors at his feet is relieving to Peter who feels the rush of blood ten times now.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah."

"I might pass out."

Tony doubles his efforts, first offering a hand to lift Peter's head just enough that the blood can return to where it belongs. Peter's more than thankful for that when the dizziness subsides just a bit.

But Tony is still looking fervently at the tangle of limbs and the way the webbing has stuck in a jumbled mess to the two building walls and fire escape railing. 

"Fuck it."

He takes one hand and blasts a repulsor at the coils, cutting them free from the brick and metal.

Peter only feels for a second like he's falling before Tony catches the rest of his body with the same hand. The sheer panic and sudden relief causes Peter to gasp in surprise. He's still tightly wound in webbing, but at least he's no longer worried about crashing to the concrete floor.

He chokes on a breath but doesn't say a word, allowing Tony to take him wherever he pleases. Peter's too exhausted to object at this point.

"Kid, I have no clue how you even got yourself in this mess."

"Neither do I," Peter says with the least amount of energy he can muster. His leg is still terribly numb and his wrist burns brutally. He's sure the rest of his body is also covered in line shaped bruises. Not to mention the little disaster with the bank robbers.

"We're heading back to the tower, I'm gonna figure…" Tony gestures to the webbing all over Peter still, "this out, and then you're explaining everything else. Got it?"

Peter nods.

He's not looking forward to it.


	16. Freaky Mutate-y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not to sound rude," Peter barely has the willpower to look Tony in the eyes but does so anyway. There's still a hand placed precariously on his shoulder. "What the hell're you guys talking about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously apologize for how long this chapter took to upload.  
I've been dealing with some not so great thoughts in my head, but i was able to pump out this chapter last night when motivation struck.  
Thank you to everyone who still reads this fic as it really does mean a lot to me!

Peter feels like an idiot being carried back to Avengers tower when he clearly stated how perfectly capable he was of taking care of himself. Not only that, but he was being carried like a  _ child _ in Tony Stark's arms while Peter could do nothing but sit there and accept the help. His heart is still pounding from the earlier scare and his limbs still ache, but what seems to be more prominent is the fact that the freezing, New York air feels too hot all of a sudden.

There's no more adrenaline in Peter's system to keep him thinking that everything his body has been feeling for the past few days is nothing to worry about.

Tony hasn't said a word the entire time, busy navigating his way through the New York skyline- making a flight that should take an hour by train.

Peter blinks sluggishly. His mask is still on and he forces a hand up to rip it off his head.

Tony only spares him a curious glance before concentrating once more on the task at hand. Unbeknownst to him, Peter's body has all but given out, no more strength-or whatever of it he had left since before the robbery and the harrowing web incident.

The whooshing wind from their speed is soothing to Peter. He doesn't realize how cold it actually is anymore. In the back of his mind he worries that he  _ doesn't _ worry, but there's not much a kid can do when his body has become led and he feels relatively safe with Iron Man taking him back to a den of superheroes.

Peter blinks.

He watches the night sky fly past him, a building passes, and the sky returns. The lights of the buildings have started to glimmer like the stars that are never visible on the New York skyline. 

Peter blinks.

Tony feels warm, though Peter knows perfectly well that the Iron suit is in no way an insulator for heat and is in fact doing the exact opposite. Still, it's nice to imagine that it actually is warm. With enough imagination, Peter can start to feel it getting warmer. Like he's in a bed with a mountain of blankets and the heater on in a nice, dark room.

The tips of his fingers feel numb and so do the tips of his ears. If he had the energy he's sure his nose would be running too. Peter knows how cold it is and if he were fully conscious of his actions at the moment he would've asked Mr. Stark why he couldn't actually  _ feel _ it. Tony would probably respond with a snide remark and it would leave Peter even more baffled, but still. 

He wanted to curl up and go to sleep for a very long time. Oh, to be sleepy and warm. A boy could only dream.

Darkness encroaches his vision at the corners, the fight so out of him that he lets it. He can hear Tony saying something to him, can feel the iron gauntlets of the suit gripping him tighter and giving him a slight shake. Other than that, Peter's blissfully unaware of the world and the cold that seemed to be forever coursing through his blood.

  
  


Peter doesn't remember waking up or falling asleep for that matter. He has vague memories of feeling absolutely exhausted and nothing else. His mind supplies that there was cold too and now he's starting to feel it again.

Belatedly, he notices that this entire time where he feels as cold as ice, not once has a shiver wracked his body. It's worrying to say the least, but not his biggest problem.

He, once again, only realizes where his actual body is. It's dark, but he can somewhat pinpoint the makings of a sliver of light from what can only be a doorway. More importantly, he's under bed covers, his body pressed comfortably into the warmest bed he's slept on in a long time without mooching off of his best friend.

He cringes slightly at the thought that he hasn't texted Ned in about a week. He feels horribly guilty for a split second before his senses catch up with his consciousness and he can hear distant sounds. The senses don't pick up on anything dangerous so instead he gets up and makes his way towards the door. Embarrassingly enough, he fights with the heavy covers of the bed, nearly trips over his own feet walking, and practically bumps into what he realizes is a short dresser.

Peter feels socks on his feet.

_ I don't remember wearing socks? Well, socks that were this warm. _

But when he looks down he can't see them. It's too dark. He places his hands in front of him to prevent bumping into anything else until he reaches the only source of light in the room. He pats around at the wall, pats at the wooden frame of a door before finally finding the door knob. His hands feel like ice against it and he forces it to turn. 

With a near silent creak, the door opens and warm light floods into the bedroom. It looks familiar when Peter looks back into the room and with a shock he remembers the room he'd collapsed in a few days ago. The first night, he woke up vomiting. The second night, he's sneaking his way out while feeling cold and not shivering. It's still concerning to think about, but he ignores the pressing thought in lieu of finding anyone who can give him answers. He can't pick out how he got here… but he does have vague memories of Tony and having a phone call. He absentmindedly pats at himself when he has a faint recollection of webbing. His wrist hurts bad and he notices a splint around it. Experimentally, he pokes at it and winces at the still there pain. Though, he's not sure how long he's actually been asleep for.

Being more than curious, Peter makes his way towards the faint voices in the distance. He should be able to hear more than three floors down with his super hearing, but coupled with the fact that he's exhausted and he's cold, but not shivering, leaves him questioning just how much his powers have been affected by the last two months.

He follows the voices, stumbling over his feet in the process and being forced to glide against a wall for extra support. The simple idea of walking any further leaves Peter wishing he'd never left the warm bedroom. It's colder now without the blanket he was wrapped in.

But before he can head back around, he's in the Penthouse lounge area. The voices come to an abrupt stop and when Peter lets his brain return to the present he notices both Tony Stark and Steve Rogers watching him. They're seated neatly on the couch across from each other, Tony's ankle over a knee and Steve with his arms crossed. They have the exact opposite energy. Tony of relaxation and Steve of a controlled calm.

The instant they catch sight of Peter however, Tony springs to his feet and runs over while Steve cautiously gets up off the couch.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing up?" Tony's voice sounds shaky, but Peter can't be entirely sure with how cotton-y his brain feels.

Peter merely blinks several times to clear his foggy vision. The image of Tony is slowly swaying in front of him the longer he keeps a focused stare.

"Tony," Steve tries, "hasn't it been three days?"

_ Three days for what? _

"Yeah, but Bruce said it could last a week…" 

Peter casts his glance between Steve who is still warrily walking towards the two and Tony who is holding out his hands like Peter might fall. Which he actually might. He's feeling tired all over again.

"What?" Peter asks.

Tony puts out a hand and rests it on Peter's shoulder when he lists to the side. "Apparently spiders don't do great in cold. Shit like that. S'pposed to be hibernating. Bruce said you'd be out for a week tops." His turns his head to face Steve. "Bruce never said anything about him waking up before then, right?"

Steve raises his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me, I'm not the scientist here."

Peter continues to blink, his mind moving slower the longer they stand there staring at each other. The burst of energy, no matter how small, that he'd felt when he first woke up was quickly draining. The curiosity and adrenaline pools from his gut and down towards his toes before seeping into the ground. He's still cold too and only barely processes that even now he has yet to release a single shiver; the body's normal response to the cold.

"'M cold," Peter says dumbly.

It's dumb because Tony Stark is a genius and Steve Rogers is a hundred something years old. Not only that, but Peter is Spider-man. He was supposed to be able to take care of himself but clearly can't even do that when he's confused about the simple functions of his body.

And what was that about hibernation and being a spider? The last time Peter checked, he was a teenager with a really shitty backstory and anxiety issues. So that didn't make a lick of sense.

"Not to sound rude," Peter barely has the willpower to look Tony in the eyes but does so anyway. There's still a hand placed precariously on his shoulder. "What the hell're you guys talking about?"

"No, now I remember." Tony is looking over at Steve and completely ignores the kid in front of him. 

Peter purses his lips at that but doesn't say anything.

"Bruce said… um, something about 'if he wakes up, it'll be like lucid dreaming'."

Steve doesn't look entirely convinced and Tony clicks his tongue.

"Wait. No. Semi-consciousness. About being cold and just needing to get back to sleep or some shit."

Peter finds himself nodding. For what, he's not sure.

"You mean like sleepwalking?" Steve says.

Tony snaps his fingers. It startles Peter enough to make him involuntarily flinch back to which Tony apologizes. 

"That's it!"

Steve is standing several feet from the two, though his expression reveals that he knows more than he's letting on. He glances between Peter and Tony's wide eyes and sighs. "Okay, so he needs to get back to sleep."

"Right. Yeah. I have no clue what Bruce said before, only remembering snippets here, 'Cap, but-"

"Tony." Steve's tone leaves the other speechless. "You're getting anxious. Just…" He gestures towards the couch they'd previously occupied. "Keep him here. He sleeps and you can keep an eye on him."

Tony holds an expression of defensiveness suddenly. His eyes harden and he turns his body fully to face Steve, his hand leaving Peter's shoulder finally. "I didn't say I was worried. I'm not his fucking mom."

Steve resists the urge to make a comment about the man's language and instead calmly responds. "I didn't. But if something were to happen, I don't know, when the kid is  _ hibernating _ you can be here first thing."

Tony doesn't look entirely convinced but takes to maneuvering the wobbly form of Peter towards the couch.

"You know where the blankets are?"

"Yup." Steve says and heads off to another door adjacent to the sitting room.

As if Peter's had a flip switched in his head suddenly, he flops down on the couch and immediately protests the man. "I don't need to sleep. I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Stark."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not even tired." Peter is, but he doesn't want to sleep now. His mind is trying to figure out what hibernation and spider resemblance Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were talking about before. And when did that ever concern him other than being Spider-man and having been bit by a radioactive spider and mutating- okay, it had a lot to do with him.

"Mr. Stark, what hibernation?"

Tony sighs, but eventually gives in. He motions for Peter to lay back on the couch and sits himself on the other opposite him. "You, Underoos, have a little, freaky mutation in your DNA that makes you more spider than you think. I'm not sure about the full concept of it, but Bruce mentioned that you can't thermoregulate and apparently sleeping it off does the trick."

Steve comes back into the room with two heavy duty blankets and hands them to Tony to which he immediately sets off to tucking around Peter.

"And that includes keeping warm."

Peter knows what thermoregulation is, but for some reason he can't seem to remember what it actually meant. He's tempted to ask Tony but ultimately holds it back for the sake of keeping his dignity. So, he makes an educated guess. When it's cold, Peter gets colder and needs to stay warm. But what was with the hibernation?

"You gonna sleep too, Tony?" Steve asks.

Tony quirks a brow at the captain and gestures at him. "I'm not the only one that was losing sleep apparently, Mr. Sunshine. You figure your shit out and I'll figure mine."

Steve looks ready to reply, his face scrunching up in annoyance before he remembers Peter is in the room. He pointedly glances at the kid and over at Tony with a specific expression that Tony immediately seems to understand.

"I got this."

Steve, as if assured, waves a brief hand at Peter and makes leave of the room- the distant sound of an elevator descending.

Tony turns to Peter, his gaze stone cold and his hands clasped over his lap. "Just me and you now, Underoos. You got a whole fuckton to explain to me."


	17. Mister Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Speaking of webs," Tony crosses his arms over his chest, "those things gave me a real hassle when you goofed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The series introduction is part of a future series of fics that will be separated based on the MCU Spider-Man timeline  
So after this fic, there will be plenty more to follow

Peter, in that moment, wanted to sink into the ground and disappear for a long time. Not only was he tired as all hell, but he really didn't want to have to explain to Tony Stark the thoughts and things he'd done for the last few days. Or the fact that he had been trying his best to ignore his best friend- if they still were that after this latest screw up- and essentially the billionaire as well.

But Tony kept staring at him with this sort of finality in his expression and Peter could only sigh in resignation. He pulled himself further into the warmth of the blankets and tried to fight the heaviness in his eyes.

"What do you want to know, Mr. Stark?" His voice was so low that he wasn't sure if he'd even been heard. He couldn't bring himself to increase the volume however considering how much energy it seemed to be taking.

Tony glanced at him unsurely and Peter immediately felt the need to throw back at the man how it was  _ him _ that wanted an explanation. Peter was only going along with it because Tony was making such a big deal out of it. Which it wasn't that big of a deal considering the little accident with the webs was a one time thing.

"Okay…" Tony seemed to be considering what to say and got as comfortable as he could on the couch. "Wha- why are you, you know, doing what you do?"

Peter cocked his head in question.

"Why're you going around the dingy streets of New York and risking your neck? I mean, just a few days ago you  _ could've _ snapped your neck and now you're here "hibernating" for God's sake. I don't wanna be the one to say it again, but you're just a kid."

Peter was inclined to throw a snide remark at the man but held back. It was a logical question the more he thought about it. He'd asked himself the same thing over and over the times he had to keep his secret from his aunt and the amount of times he'd been on the brink of a nasty accident that his healing factor might not be able to heal.

So, he sighs, shuffles in the blankets a bit until he's sitting up and puts on a serious expression. "When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you. I can't just… sit around knowing I have superpowers and expect normal people to deal with robbers and murderers by themselves. And no offense, but the Avengers only take care of the World-ending stuff. The average people of New York kind of need their own guy and that's what I give them."

"At the expense of your own life?" Tony says softly, forlornly.

Peter smiles sadly. "Sometimes, especially now, there's not much else for me to dish out. But with these powers at least I can do something worthwhile."

Peter immediately realizes the gravity of his statement when Tony's eyes grow dark. He's not sure why, but the disappointment in Tony's expression hits him hard. 

"'Not much else'?"

Peter stares blankly. He doesn't know what to say considering he can barely remember the last thing he'd said.

"Kid, what do you mean you don't have anything to give?"

_ Oh.  _ But Peter can't give an answer. When your parents and then your second parents are all dead and you're suddenly all alone on the streets of New York it's hard to keep optimism about anything. At least as Spider-Man he can give the people some peace of mind with as long as he can. "I just- I mean, I'm just a kid and- and, being Spider-Man is all I have now I guess. I really don't even know what else I could do other than that."

"Kid, superpowers aren't  _ everything _ . Steve might be a supersoldier but he's getting into art again and he's hoping to one day teach some kids. Clint has a family inside and out of the Avengers. And you got Bruce who's an actual genius when he's not Hulked out."

"Yeah- but- I'm not like any of you. I don't have a family and I'm not a genius or an artist."

With a sneaking suspicion, Tony's eyes narrow and he almost looks like he's smirking without actually moving his mouth. He dramatically turns his head up towards the ceiling as if he's giving Peter the privacy he needs to hide his shocked expression at what he says next. "Family isn't just blood, you know. You could be our unofficial kid spider. And you've gotta be a genius to be going to that school of yours."

_ WHICH PART OF THAT AM I EVEN SUPPOSED TO RESPOND TO?! _

"I- I don't even- I-"

Tony turns his nose back down and fully smiles at Peter as if he's successfully pulled the wool over his eyes. Which, yeah, he has. 

"So, what's the science of flavor? Anatomic, Subatomic, Mechanical engineering, Quantum theory?" He purposely avoids the first part of his earlier statement in place of the one he knows vastly more about.

"Uh… I guess Chemical engineering. Chemistry was my best subject, if I'm being honest."

Tony pointedly looks to the left side of the couch and Peter has to strain to see what he's gesturing towards. On a side table he hadn't seen before, there are his webshooters lying still and practically broken in several places. Peter allows himself a moment of silent longing for them but decides he can fix them at a later date.

"You make those or you got a sponsor?"

Peter laughs breathlessly. "Like I could afford that. I kinda just put some stuff together I found around the area and made the solution when I had free time in Chemistry."

This conversation was far more favorable to any other Peter was dreading and he was sure Tony knew so as well.

"Dumpster diver, ey?"

"Not really, just pieces I thought would work. And I like taking electronics apart and putting them back together so it's a win-win. Especially when Ned needed something fixed, I could take the whole thing apart and just put it back together in better working condition than when he first got it."

_ Oh I'm rambling again. _

But Tony doesn't seem bothered by it.

"So. Yeah. I… like building things. And mixing chemicals and creating new compounds that most of the time make no sense."

Tony laughs. "Like those webs you up and swing around on."

"Pretty much."

"Speaking of webs," Tony crosses his arms over his chest, "those things gave me a real hassle when you goofed."

Peter stares blankly.

"You were in your own little cocoon when I got you back over here and let me just say, scissors are one of the stupidest things to use on them."

"They dissolve," Peter supplies unhelpfully.

"Yeah? How long?"

"Um… two hours about. Depends how much there is."

"Yeah. No. This shit was everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Had to use a soldering iron to take them off."

Peter ducks his head. 

"I'm just saying, they're pretty strong for a "free time" build."

Peter shrugs.

"I'm serious!" There's such a look of determination in Tony Stark's eyes that it's hard to deny. "Midtown School of Science and Technology. I'll have you know, the R&D department here goes intern hunting for kids from that school of yours."

Peter laughs. "No way."

Tony,  _ very maturely _ , rakes a finger over his heart. "Cross my heart, kiddo. We have a strict "not until graduation" policy, so that's probably why you haven't heard much of it."

_ Makes sense. _

Peter nods his head only to show Tony that, yeah, he believes him, but doesn't say otherwise.

"Anyway," Tony continues, "in the mood for some food? I know I am."

Peter takes a moment to think. His eyes still droopy and his body craving rest, but with the distracting conversation and the heavy blankets over himself he feels warmer than ever. "Sure, Mr. Stark."

Tony stands and turns to leave but loudly proclaims before he does so, "Don't call me Mister, kid. Makes me feel old." 

"I'll try," Peter laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter is so short  
I needed the rest to flow smoothly and this was the best cut off point
> 
> Please comment as I do read them and just am not able to respond to everyone, they mean a lot to me  
Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank whoever took the time to read this as it turned out to just be a bunch of rambling. I'm rewriting a fic I posted earlier because this story wouldn't leave my head, though I changed a lot of it.  
If you liked it somehow, please let me know in the comments, they mean so much to me.


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